


nothing's gonna change (my love for you)

by steponherneck (gangbangs)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Jongin is Bad at Feelings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:19:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3195068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gangbangs/pseuds/steponherneck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for jongin, getting through life is hard enough without the constant threat of kyungsoo turning his world upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing's gonna change (my love for you)

**Author's Note:**

> my immense gratitude to marshmallow for all her handholding and alpha reading. this fic wouldn't exist without you. also, thank you to baby seal for betaing this for me and cheering me on! you are the very best ♡

  
The walls seem to be shrinking in, or perhaps Jongin’s simply growing bigger and bigger, but the path is no less endless, the small pinprick of light ahead of him still about the size of his fist. Jongin can’t tell where the floor ends and the walls begin, murky browns and distilled greys surrounding him, infusing into one endless backdrop. His lungs are burning, as if set on fire, and Jongin’s breathing out black smoke, eyes watering, choking, choking, running.

There’s something behind him, and Jongin isn’t afraid of it so much as he is burdened by it. He wants to get away, be free, and somehow the light at the end of the tunnel is escaping. Jongin is stumbling, legs turning into jelly; Jongin’s skin is melting off, he’s falling.

He crawls, drags himself forward, the Thing behind him following leisurely, sure of itself. Jongin doesn’t dare look back, just pushes liquified muscles to keep pulling the weight of his body, the weight of whatever was behind him forward. The light is suddenly so close, Jongin can see people, laughing, a heart-shaped smile, big eyes, rounded jaw.

“Kyungsoo,” he gasps, jolting awake, and if he doesn’t fall off the couch completely, it’s because he’s lucky. His heart is hammering in his chest, t-shirt sticky against his back. His apartment blinks in the dark, flickers against the backdrop of night, television broadcasting some old rerun. Jongin’s eyes can’t quite adjust, his hands are trembling as if he’s been struck like a gong, reverberations running down his spine. He is sound.

The clock on his phone tells him it’s three am. Last summer, he’d spent nearly every day of his life up until three am, doing absolutely nothing some nights except staring at his ceiling and expecting it to change into something else. A portal, perhaps. Something to engulf him.

He stares at his phone screen, a picture of Monggu from the day he’d left him with his sister. Monggu would have found him by now, come to comfort him. Instead, his hands are still shaking. The vague image of Kyungsoo’s face flashes behind his eyes and really, he doesn’t want to think about this. He’s tired. He has an eight hour shift at work in the morning, and class in the afternoon but he finds himself staring at Kyungsoo’s contact card, hitting dial.

Jongin listens to the ring, wonders why he's doing this, why he didn't just ignore the impulse. He's about to hit the end call button, mind wandering to how he hasn't actually spoken to Kyungsoo in some two weeks now, when Kyungsoo picks up, voice groggy with sleep. "Hello?"

Jongin lets out a shaky breath, shoulders sagging, and this was pretty dumb, pretty selfish, but somehow the exhaustion coursing through him doesn't matter so much now. "Kyungsoo, hyung, it's...Sorry, I shouldn't have...sorry."

"Wait, Jongin? Are you okay? Jongin?” Kyungsoo’s rambling, voice slurred, and under different circumstances maybe Jongin would find this cute, but his heart’s settled in his throat, made itself a home.

He doesn’t know what to say, never has been good with words, but what Jongin’s always liked about Kyungsoo is that he’s never needed them. His hands have stopped shaking, the unease in his gut nearly gone. Jongin sinks back into the couch, imagines Kyungsoo’s face, the knit of concern in his thick eyebrows, eyes big and wide and impossibly beautiful, mouth curled downwards, upset. Jongin’s chest aches.

“Jongin, its three in the morning,” Kyungsoo tells him. Jongin stares at his television screen, absorbing nothing. He’s going to be exhausted for his shift at work; maybe he’d be able to convince Baekhyun to switch departments. Jongin is better suited for dishwashing than making awkward conversation with customers as he takes their orders. “Is everything okay? You, I mean, we haven’t spoken in…”

 _Two weeks,_ Jongin wants to say. _We never talk anymore,_ he wants to add but instead he gathers up the last of his wits, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “I’m sorry, hyung. I had a weird nightmare...I’m fine, I promise. Goodnight.”

Jongin ends the call before Kyungsoo can say anything and sits in the dim, flickering light of his television, rolling his neck around to work out the kink on the left side.

 

☼

 

“You look like shit,” Baekhyun greets, cheery smile plastered over his obnoxious face. Jongin kind of hates that he’s good looking, despite being such a twat, but his eyes are burning from lack of sleep and he doesn’t have the energy to snap back. He just wants two cups of coffee and an excessive amount of silence. The former he’ll get, but Baekhyun wasn’t about to shut up.

“Good morning to you, too,” Jongin grumbles, shuffling into the kitchen, past Baekhyun. He slips on an apron over his uniform, dumping his bag next to Baekhyun’s. Jongdae and Sunyoung wouldn’t be in for another hour, when the restaurant would actually open. In the meantime, Jongin could help the cooks prep.

“You’re on the floor today,” Baekhyun reminds him, eyeing the apron Jongin’s slung on.

“You like it more than I do, hyung.” Jongin bows to the head chef, taking the bowl of peppers from her hands and getting started on chopping them. Menial kitchen work was almost relaxing, had a certain lull to it. “I’m good at washing dishes.”

“People aren’t going to eat you,” Baekhyun says with a roll of his eyes. He grabs a knife and starts helping Jongin, hands quicker than Jongin’s, fingers deft. Jongin’s envious, little pinpricks of jealousy wounding his heart.

“I’m pretty sure you’d eat people if it wasn’t considered cannibalistic,” Jongin retorts, lifting his cutting board to slide the mixture of green and red and yellow diced peppers into an empty bowl. At least he was one pepper ahead. The remnants of the pepper, little seeds and the stem, lie next to the board, kind of like Jongin. Rather useless, tasteless.

“I was blessed with razor sharp incisors,” Baekhyun agrees, bobbing his head up and down. He looks a little funny, and Jongin can’t help the snort of disbelief. “It’s a waste not to use them.”

“I’ve seen the bruises on Jongdae-hyung,” Jongin alludes, smiling slyly, but really he should have known better. Baekhyun isn’t ashamed of anything. He leers in Jongin’s direction, smug and content with himself, all while continuing to chop. Jongin feels clumsy next to him.

“I could give you some, too," Baekhyun grins, eyebrows waggling, and Jongin makes a gagging sound, leaving Baekhyun with the peppers to go and grab a sack of onions. When he gets back, Baekhyun is half way done and, really, Jongin should attribute his quickness to the four years he’s spent working at the restaurant and not how much better Jongin thinks Baekhyun is at everything.

“Are you not going to switch with me?” Jongin asks, trashing the unusable parts of the peppers.

“You owe me,” Baekhyun sings, smiling. He ruffles Jongin’s hair before he’s gone. For a moment, Jongin watches him take down chairs and flicker on the lights, heading to start the coffee machine. Working in a diner wasn’t so bad, but Jongin had never really taken to people.

Sighing, Jongin focuses on his task, mentally going over his to-do list for the day. If he was lucky, Lu Han would be in class and time wouldn’t feel like black smoke slowly turning him to ash.

 

☼

 

Lu Han sleeps through the entire lecture, using Jongin’s shoulder like a cushion. Jongin doodles in the margins of his notebook, not particularly interested in whatever the professor was going on about. He’d taken this class as a breadth requirement, as if being a well-rounded person had anything to do with surviving in the real world. Jongin didn’t know shit about The Dwarf, hadn’t even bothered to open and read it. Jongin didn’t have time to read, not between work and trying to motivate himself to _get out_ of his apartment to actually make it to class.

Jongin sinks a little lower in his seat, staring at the veins of Lu Han’s hands, disappearing under Lu Han’s sleeves. They’d met in Communication Theory, Lu Han stumbling into class late, claiming he’d gotten lost finding the room. Their professor hadn’t looked pleased, but the seat next to Jongin had been empty, as it tended to be. He was almost always the only guy in the class, and something about that both made him the focus of giggles and cold shouldering. It was well enough, because meeting Lu Han had been the upside of his first year.

“This is boring,” Lu Han mumbles, startling Jongin out of his thoughts. Jongin passes a glance at Lu Han, eyes still shut, dark circles collecting underneath. Jongin doesn’’t look any better, the smattering of pimples around his jaw only taking more away. He is almost always stressed, next month’s rent looming over him like an axe ready to sever his head off. Even making tuition this year had been a nightmare, the two jobs Jongin had worked over the summer effectively ending any chance for Jongin to keep up with Sehun, to not lose his oldest friend. Two years at different universities had done most of the damage, even if Jongin had been hell bent on salvaging what was left. Life had taught him that failure looked good on Jongin; he couldn’t change his colours now.

“We can leave during break,” Jongin answers, ignoring the hand Lu Han’s curled around Jongin’s arm. He’s warm, comforting. “Did you wanna get some ramyun?”

“Isn’t that always the plan?” Lu Han smiles, peeping open an eye to glance at Jongin. He looks kind of battered up, and Jongin really just wants to take him home and tuck him into bed, tell him to sleep.

“You look like shit,” Jongin comments, taking a line from Baekhyun. “Have you been sleeping?”

Lu Han shakes his head, truthful for once. It’s not like Jongin didn’t know about the insomnia; Lu Han had once drunkenly confessed about it all, Jongin’s bed like a therapist’s chair. But like most things between them, talking about personal shit didn’t happen unless they were inebriated and the possibility that no one would remember anything the next day hung in the air.

“Sleep, we’ll leave when class ends.” Jongin slants his shoulder to give Lu Han a more comfortable angle, the mumbled thank you not escaping his ears. Jongin’s pretty tired himself, the dream keeping him awake the rest of the night.

He replays Kyungsoo’s voice in his head, thinks about the way worry laced his voice. The last time they’d met, Kyungsoo had shown up at _Peter Pan_ with his friends and Jongin had awkwardly served them, wishing they’d sat in Jongdae’s section of the restaurant instead. Kyungsoo hung out with people that intimidated Jongin, left him feeling incompetent.

It was strange, considering that Kyungsoo himself always settled the storm brewing around Jongin easily, hand combing through Jongin’s hair, soothing his nerves. Jongin wondered how he hung out with people as loud as Chanyeol, who seemed to bring out the same in everyone around him.

Sometimes, only sometimes, Jongin wishes he were back in high school, when asking for Kyungsoo’s attention had been easier, something offered to him freely. Jongin knows he is a little stuck on this, but he tells himself that indifference is difficult to glaze over everything when Jongin’s name alone from Kyungsoo’s mouth can melt everything away.

The professor tells them to take a break and Jongin watches students slip out of the room, cigarette packs squeezed tightly between their fingers. Jongin had only ever smoked in Sehun’s company, never had the money to spend on addictions.

Sighing, Jongin digs out his phone from his pocket, careful not to rouse Lu Han, who appears like he’s actually sleeping. Jongin’s heart booms in his ears for a split-second, Kyungsoo’s name on his screen terrifying and pleasing. Maybe he still mattered.

Opening the messages, Jongin reads through them with a sick joy, nervous that Kyungsoo would be angry. Instead, there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

_that was weird, this morning_

_i hope you’re okay and...well, i’m still your hyung, don’t forget._

_i miss you._

 

☼

 

There’s too much garlic in his bowl of ramyun, no thanks to Lu Han’s insistence that he should add more, it tasted better. Jongin wonders when he got so picky, chopsticks stirring his noodles around in the broth. The hard boiled egg bobs on the outskirts, some stringy bean sprouts keeping it company.

“How’s work?” Lu Han asks, slurping his noodles obnoxiously loud. Jongin can’t even hold it against him, knows it’s probably the only food Lu Han’s had all day. Between the two of them, Jongin’s sure they’ve had at least one full meal. They’re a sad couple.

“Same old,” Jongin says with shrug, giving up on his food and placing his chopsticks on the napkin next to his bowl. He glances at Lu Han, head resting on the palm of his hand as he sticks his elbow up on the bar. There is, at the very least, something comforting about Lu Han’s face, the way he stuffs too much food into his tiny mouth, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk’s. Jongin knows why he’d had the fleeting thing for him, knows that even now he lets Lu Han get away with a lot more than he tolerates from other people.

“You?” he asks, finally, waving over the waiter. He needs water.

“I broke another mug today,” Lu Han answers, leaning back, licking broth from his lips. Jongin smiles thankfully at the waiter, chugging down the contents of the glass. Lu Han looks like he could mix in with the background, almost the same shade of drab grey that surrounds them. Jongin’s no better, dressed in nothing but black save the bright red of his snapback. They blend in.

“In other words, your boss threatened to fire you again,” Jongin sighs, amazed by Lu Han’s inability to hold down a job. In the black and white scene unfolding before his eyes, Lu Han is drained of colour, the soft brown seeping out of his hair, skin sallow, crisp white edge of his sneakers stark against the dark shades around him.

“How’re you going to pay rent?” Jongin asks when Lu Han’s only response is to drain his bowl of the broth, motion like flickering on a light as Jongin’s vision adjusts, the pink in Lu Han’s cheeks returning vividly. Jongin blinks, pushes his bowl of unfinished ramyun to Lu Han, a grateful smile thanking him in return. He has some leftovers; he could make himself some bibimbap when he got home.

“I’ll have to figure something out,” Lu Han responds. “Stop worrying about me so much. You sound like you’re my mom.”

“Just move in with me,” Jongin insists, and god knows they’ve had this argument a thousand times. Lu Han’s stubborn though, but Jongin’s no better, and he’s definitely not losing.

“Don’t make me feel like a loser,” Lu Han whines, shoving at Jongin with more spirit than Jongin’s sure he feels.

“Hyung, there’s enough space, and it would cut back on your rent _and_ mine,” Jongin reasons, glancing around the ramyun shop. The place is packed with other college students, all in for a quick, cheap meal. Jongin has an eight page response paper due for his psychiatric mental health nursing class, and the looming dread of applying for a practicum position at the hospital to deal with when he gets home. If Jongin had learned anything from his seniors, the ER sounded terrifying. Jongin had a tendency to lean toward mental health courses and a practicum in the same area eased his heart.

“I’ll think about it, alright?” Lu Han sighs, digging through his wallet to pull up the few won he had. Jongin hands him back the money he’s put down for Jongin, paying for his own bowl himself. When Lu Han makes to argue, Jongin gives him a pointed look. He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder.

Pulling Lu Han up from the table, Jongin settles an arm around his shoulders as they make it out of the shop. “I can still get you that job at the studio, you know. I know you think being a secretary would be unmanly or something, but it’s a pretty cushy job.”

“Why don’t you take it?” Lu Han grumbles, but he hasn’t pulled away from Jongin yet. Despite the hold Jongin has over him, Lu Han’s guiding him toward the bus stop, his phone in his hand as he scrolls through text messages.

“I already have a job,” Jongin reminds him. “I kinda like it.”

“You mean you just like hiding in the backroom,” Lu Han teases, flashing Jongin a smile as he piles into the bus that leads to Jongin’s place and takes twice as long to get to his own apartment.

“I don’t like people,” Jongin mumbles with a shrug, tapping his T-card and shuffling behind Lu Han until they make it to the back of the bus, flopping into two empty seats. It’s past ten, and lucky for Jongin he doesn’t have work in the morning. Just a two hour seminar and dance class in the evening. Jongin likes Thursdays.

“What do you like Kim Jongin?” Lu Han hums, arm looping through Jongin’s as they settle into their seats. Jongin, yawning, lets his head sit on Lu Han’s shoulder. “Have you even caught up on Shingeki no Kyojin yet?”

“We’ve had assignments due every week, when was I supposed to catch up?” Jongin watches street lights flash by him, Lu Han’s reflection in the window watching him. Lu Han shakes his head, little disappointed tuts escaping him.

“Sleep is for the weak,” Lu Han declares, fingers tapping along the window frame as he stares out at endless blackness. Jongin’s stop is another ten minutes away. He wonders if Lu Han will wake him up in time, he has so much to do...

“You’re a loser,” Jongin informs Lu Han, mumbling, eyes already closed as the bus jostles forward, little bumps along the way only lulling Jongin closer to sleep.

 

☼

 

Lu Han crashes at Jongin’s, sprawled out over Jongin’s bed, snoring as Jongin finishes his response paper and tries to steadfastly ignore the Facebook event he’s been invited to. Chanyeol had sent it, a mass invitation to Jongin’s entire group of high school friends. Jongin isn’t even sure he can call all of them friends. He really just hung around with Sehun back then, and when he wasn’t with Sehun, he was with Kyungsoo.

The awkward stage that everyone kept anticipating him to grow out of had stuck, and in all honesty, back then Jongin had been in a pretty long-term relationship with the dance studio. Getting into K-arts had been everything. Dreams, however, were fragile things.

He sighs, head resting on his arm as he stares at the event. Jongin glances at Lu Han behind him, as if expecting him to be awake when he’d pretty much collapsed the second he’d gotten within range of Jongin’s bed. He pushes his bottom lip between his teeth, finger pressing to his mouth as he checks the list of invitees. Jongin knows he’s not fooling anyone, let alone himself. He’s really only checking for one name.

When he finds it, he wastes another fifteen minutes staring at Do Kyungsoo’s profile picture and imagining what it would be like to taste his mouth.

 

☼

 

Jongin’s finishing his stretches when Yixing fumbles into the room, the hood of his oversized and absurdly bright yellow sweater tugged up and over, nearly covering his eyes. The sad little downturn of his mouth picks up as he spots Jongin bent in half, trying to press his hands flat against the floor, the burn along his calves more soothing than painful. His back had other opinions, but Jongin had stopped caring about those a while ago.

Lu Han liked to tell Jongin that he slept too much, but he hadn’t met Yixing yet, whose eyes seemed to be stuck at half mast, dopey grin stretching across his lips. “Ah, there’s my little Jonginnie.”

“Hyung, stop calling me that,” Jongin whines, even if he doesn’t really mean it. “I’m taller than you, you know.”

“And yet, you still can’t tie your shoelaces,” Yixing laughs, his bag tossed into the corner along with Jongin’s. His left shoe’s laces are untied, but Jongin usually just tucks those in anyway. They’re teaching the beginner's hip-hop class today, the majority of the students in middle school.

“Did you want to add the next part of the choreography today?” Jongin asks, ignoring the joke at his expense. Jongin really likes Yixing, and maybe kind of looks up to him. Yixing’s family had come to Korea recently, opened up a restaurant, and Yixing had poured everything into it. Jongin didn’t understand that kind of selflessness, how Yixing could just be satisfied with teaching dance, but he never complained.

“Let’s go over everything they know so far and see how they’re doing first,” Yixing replies, joining Jongin on the floor to start his own stretches. They go through the motions in relative silence, watching as their students pile in slowly, greeting them both before joining in the stretches.

Slipping into dance instructor mode is easy for Jongin; it’s the highlight of his week, getting to let go and feel like for once he’s in control of something. It’s even more satisfying when his students do well, picking up the new choreography with more ease than Jongin had expected. The hour passes by quickly, quicker than Jongin would like, but just as their last student disappears, Yixing puts the music back on, eyebrow quirked at Jongin expectantly. They blend in smoothly to the sound of _Keep Your Head Down_. It’s a remix Yixing’s worked on himself, bass pulsing through Jongin’s body, like a second heartbeat pulsing through him, Jongin’s blood rushing hot and quick through his veins.

When Yixing’s playlist finally comes to an end, Jongin’s drenched in sweat, throat parched. Yixing’s steps are slower as he meanders toward the stereo, grabbing his iPod. Jongin has to remind him to take it home, lest he forget it at the studio again.

Jongin manages to make it over to his bag, digging his phone out of his backpack, eyes flickering between the time and Yixing as he collapses onto the floor, arms and legs spread out around him. There’s four text messages, and Jongin assumes they’re all from Lu Han, but when he unlocks his phone, he finds one from Kyungsoo. He doesn’t bother tapping over the thread, Kyungsoo’s text already visible.

_you coming to the meetup?_

Jongin’s throat closes up as he rereads the single line, over-thinking why Kyungsoo would want him there, why he even bothered asking. He doesn’t like big social gatherings, steering clear of the parties Lu Han frequented, and he especially isn’t a fan of seeing people from high school. Jongin kinda wanted to leave that all behind.

He doesn’t bother responding, shoving his phone back into his backpack and wandering over to Yixing. The water bottle he was supposed to grab is left forgotten by his bag, but Jongin can ignore his thirst for a little longer.

“Something up?”

“It’s nothing,” Jongin says with a shake of his head, lying comatose next to Yixing, chest heaving as his heartbeat attempts to steady itself. He feels slightly light-headed, his skin scorching, and it’s doing nothing for his ability to concentrate on something other than Kyungsoo’s groggy voice laced with concern at three am.

“It’s definitely something,” Yixing breathes, turning his head to stare at Jongin. He’s still spread out like a starfish and they need to leave the studio soon; the cleaners would be here soon. “You have that sad schoolboy lovestruck look all over your face.”

“I have a lovestruck look?” Jongin mumbles, too exhausted to be embarrassed, eyes slipping shut as he tries to figure out what exactly _is_ going on. Jongin’s not sure if he’s just steadfastly holding onto a crush because he’s lived in it so long that letting go seems impossible, the lingering feelings like a current dragging him out to sea and back.

“It’s the way your eyes get all, how do you say, all soft and cute. You smile all stupidly, too. I’ve seen you do it before, and then you always wander over to me, sighing very dramatically. Just like in Master’s Sun,” Yixing explains, attempting to look wise. Jongin only snorts, shaking his head.

“You sound like an ahjumma,” he laughs, more like a wheeze as he tries valiantly not to cough and splutter everywhere.

“My grandma likes watching dramas, she usually drags me into it,” Yixing says with a shrug, glancing back up at the ceiling. “Follow your heart Jonginnie.”

“It’s just a meetup with old high school…friends.” Jongin really regrets not grabbing his water bottle, tongue heavy in his mouth, throat drier than before.

“And your long lost love is going to be there?”

“My life isn’t a drama, hyung,” Jongin huffs, swatting at Yixing but he’s too tired to do any actual damage. He needs to get home, to shower, but the floor doesn’t seem like a bad place to go to sleep right now.

“It certainly sounds like one. Maybe we can pitch your life to one of the broadcasting channels. What do you think?” Yixing grins, pushing himself up. He runs a hand through his hair, glancing in the mirror for a brief second. The hood goes back up, masking Yixing’s sweat-drenched hair. Jongin didn’t look any better himself, fringe sticking to his forehead, the back of his t-shirt drenched.

“I don’t think Korea’s ready for a big gay romance,” Jongin mumbles, following suit. He only falls back once in his attempt to sit up, groaning as he sits up properly, doing a few half-assed stretches to alleviate the dull ache starting in his lower back.

“I, for one, think it would be even more exciting. Forbidden love, and all that,” Yixing says, pulling Jongin up to his feet. He swings an arm around Jongin’s shoulders, smiling even as his eyes disappear behind his bangs and the edge of his hood.

“You’re ahead of your time,” Jongin sighs, grabbing his water bottle and chugging down the contents in one go. Yixing pokes at Jongin’s too full cheeks when he shoves the empty water bottle into his backpack, laughing when a little squirts out. Jongin shoves him away, glaring as he uses his t-shirt to clean up the water dribbling down his chin. It’s gross.

Yixing’s laughing, his bag a bright, obnoxious purple. Jongin thinks it fits a little too well, considering what a horrible person Yixing was.

“You should go to the meetup.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jongin waves off. People drift apart, it’s natural. Jongin had new friends now anyway.

“If I could go back and see my friends, I’d do it. You have nothing to lose,” Yixing advises, trailing after Jongin as they leave the studio. The cleaners are already mopping one of the other practise rooms and Jongin glances at Yixing’s hands to spot the iPod in them. Looks like he wasn’t that clueless.

Jongin doesn’t know how to tell Yixing that he’d already lost so much, he didn’t know how to take chances anymore. He didn’t really want to.

“Come on. The text was from him, right? Whoever the lucky guy is,” Yixing pries. Jongin’s not sure why he isn’t annoyed by all this, but Yixing is sweet and kind all over; Jongin would only feel like a jerk getting mad at him.

“His name’s Kyungsoo,” Jongin says, watching the way Yixing’s eyes twinkle. Like he’s won. Jongin thinks maybe he has.

 

☼

 

When Jongin had told Lu Han about the whole ordeal, he’d expected some support in Jongin’s efforts to be a lonely hermit, but instead Lu Han had dug through Jongin’s closet until he found the _perfect_ dress shirt. Jongin finds himself standing in front of the bar’s door in said dress shirt, a pair of black slacks, and Lu Han’s grey peacoat. Jongin doesn’t own anything so fancy. He feels overly done up, the sinking feeling that everyone inside would probably be in jeans and t-shirts feeding his wracked up his nerves.

 _You can still go back,_ Jongin tells himself, turning away from the door to take two steps in the opposite direction -- except he’s rooted to the spot when he finds Chanyeol walking his way, flattening out his tie, still unaware of Jongin’s existence. There’s nowhere to hide to Jongin’s dismay, so he silently hopes Chanyeol won’t look up, but he does and Jongin’s not sure why he keeps hoping for impossible things.

Chanyeol’s hair is curlier than Jongin remembers it, dyed almond brown. He’s wearing something similar to Jongin save for the dark red tie, dress shirt crisp and white and probably pricier than Jongin’s whole ensemble.

“Chanyeol-hyung,” Jongin greets, bowing on instinct.

“Hey!” Chanyeol exclaims, reaching to pull Jongin into a hug, and Jongin’s forgotten the way Chanyeol had a tendency to squeeze the life out of people when he hugged them. This feels overly friendly, spikes of anxiety shooting up his spine.

“Don’t kill the kid, Chanyeol,” someone says from behind Chanyeol. Jongin only just manages to see them from where he’s being suffocated against Chanyeol’s shoulder. It’s Junmyeon, looking as perfectly put together as always. Once upon a time, Jongin had really looked up to him, but Jongin didn’t miss his kind smiles the way he missed leaning into Kyungsoo at lunch, taking naps against his hyung’s shoulder.

“He never comes to see us anymore,” Chanyeol whines, finally letting go of Jongin, who sucks in a deep breath, smile shaky as he greets Junmyeon.

“Because you have so much time on your hands,” Junmyeon points out, pulling Jongin in toward himself as he guides everyone into the bar. Thankfully it’s already full, familiar faces bustling around, and before Jongin knows it, Junmyeon and Chanyeol have both been pulled away in opposite directions, leaving Jongin alone. He glances around, an empty seat near the television free. Jongin beelines for it, ordering a beer as he stares purposefully at the football match between Real Madrid and Villareal. Jongin used to spend an excessive amount of time keeping up with the Premier League, but there wasn’t time to waste on hobbies now. He had a 3.4 GPA to uphold, bills and rent to pay for. Nothing came easy.

The night moves on around him in a blend of reds, the colour of wine and cherries, and bright orange flames, flickering past Jongin’s eyes. The lighting is pretty dim, shrouding everything in a layer of darkness, the colour of Chanyeol’s hair.

Real Madrid scores it’s third goal, and Jongin’s beer is nearly empty. He thinks about texting Lu Han, asking him what his loser ass is doing, but before he can grab his phone, there’s an arm wrapping around his bicep, yanking him back. Jongin yelps, eyes widening as he imagines crashing to the floor, but Chanyeol’s hysterical laughter is the only collision Jongin makes.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, you asshole,” Jongin breathes, fingers clutching at the bar table as he steadies himself. Jongin’s patience was always lowest for Park Chanyeol, human clown.

“But you were sitting here all by yourself, I came to keep you company,” Chanyeol grins, leaning against the bar as he bats his eyelashes at Jongin. There’s no way that’s ever worked on anyone. Jongin rolls his eyes, wondering how he managed two years of high school in Chanyeol’s presence. “So, where’ve you been hiding?”

“I’m busy, hyung,” Jongin huffs, attempting to not just dismiss Chanyeol. He needed to work on being less irritable.

“You’re always so busy,” Chanyeol tuts. “We barely saw you in high school, you were always off dancing.”

It stings, and Jongin knows Chanyeol didn’t mean it like that, but he tells himself that at least it’s not as bad as it was two years ago, when he’d received his rejection letter. Jongin doesn’t remember crying so much at anything.

“How’s KU?” Jongin asks, attempting to change the subject. He glances around the room, smiling weakening when Soojung catches his eye, flashing him a smile.

“Amazing,” Chanyeol smiles. “It’d probably be better if I went to class, but sleeping in is a difficult thing to give up.”

Jongin laughs, something genuine as he shakes his head. “I thought business students had to be on top of their shit.”

“Hey, I never said I was failing.”

“And how’re your musical endeavours?” Jongin asks, always more comfortable with conversational topics that didn’t focus on him. He plays with the coaster for his empty beer, a little surprised when Chanyeol gets him another.

“Sehun got me this sweet in at a club, so I’ve been DJing for about a year,” Chanyeol chatters away, taking a swig of his own beer, the curls in his hair bouncing as he practically vibrates standing next to Jongin. Jongin didn’t understand where people like Chanyeol got the energy for large group gatherings, especially when it seemed like he thrived on them.

“Oh, Sehun, did he come?” Jongin tries to sound disinterested but his heart’s already picked up, the muscles in his shoulders tensing.

“He’s doing a year abroad,” Chanyeol answers slowly, staring at Jongin intently. Jongin has to sit very still to keep himself from squirming, from letting embarrassment colour his cheeks red. The last time Jongin had spoken to Sehun, they’d both just finished their second year. Sehun never mentioned anything about going abroad.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I completely blanked out,” Jongin laughs, and Chanyeol seems to buy it, grinning along with Jongin like this were anything more than life playing jokes on Jongin.

Thankfully, someone comes to his rescue when they call out Chanyeol’s name loud enough to be heard over the thrum of the crowd. Chanyeol gives Jongin’s hair a quick ruffle before excusing himself, leaving Jongin alone with his misery. He downs his second beer in a matter of seconds, waving for another. Villareal’s scored their first goal on Real Madrid, and Jongin had missed it. The second half is nearly over though, their efforts a little too late.

Jongin thinks he might be drunk, tipsy enough that he can scan the room, until he catches sight of Kyungsoo. His breath catches in the back of his throat, the sight of dark hair pushed back, full lips, sleeves rolled up his forearms. Jongin can’t remember the last time he’s seen Kyungsoo quite like this, if he’s ever seen him like this, and for some reason it only splinters across his chest, leaves Jongin feeling worse than when he hadn’t seen Kyungsoo. Jongin shouldn’t have come, he should have listened to his gut. There was always something to lose.

He leaves money for his beers on the bar counter, slipping past people, who are all absorbed in catching up and showing off that Jongin may as well be a shadow passing over them. Kyungsoo hadn’t come over to say hi, Kyungsoo hadn’t even noticed him. Not that Jongin had done anything about it and god, he can’t start crying over something _this_ stupid.

It’s cooler outside than before, and Jongin buttons up Lu Han’s coat with shaking fingers, digging his hands into the pockets when he finished. He stands still for a few moments, trying to calm his heart, steadying himself for the journey home. Jongin thinks about just calling a taxi, but there’s the niggling feeling that he doesn’t deserve it.

Sighing, Jongin sets out for the subway, planning out his route in his head. The streets of Seoul are busy around him, cars zipping past, flashing lights breathing life in the darkness of night. Jongin thinks about the six pack he has in his fridge and whether or not showing up to work in the morning with a hangover is worth it or not.

“Jongin!” He slows down in his steps, unsure if he’s actually heard his name or not. Glancing back, he finds Kyungsoo running up to him, a little flushed in the cheeks. Jongin’s barely made it away from the bar. Something flutters in the pit of his belly, chest suddenly feeling like it’s been pumped full of excess air.

“H-hyung,” Jongin stutters when Kyungsoo’s stopped in front of him, some of his bangs falling out of his styled hair. Jongin fists his hands in his pockets, quelling the urge to brush them back. Kyungsoo smiles at him, sweeping a hand through his hair easily. Jongin can’t stop thinking about how snugly his grey slacks fit across his thighs, or how his deep blue dress shirt stretches across his chest.

“Where’re you going? It’s barely past ten, and you didn’t even say hello,” Kyungsoo scolds, tiny shivers running down Jongin’s arms as he takes in the furrow in Kyungsoo’s brow, lips pursed in displeasure.

“I, early shift in the morning, hyung. And I didn’t wanna bother you,” Jongin licks his lips, avoiding Kyungsoo’s eyes. “You looked busy.”

“Assuming I was busy isn’t the same as me telling you I am,” Kyungsoo sighs, surprising Jongin when he reaches up to fix the collar on Jongin’s coat. Jongin tries very hard not to breathe too loud, or at all really, until Kyungsoo pulls away. “I don’t remember you being so rude in high school.”

Jongin flushes, already embarrassed enough that he’d been caught, and by the worst possible person at that. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, staring at the loafers his father had bought him for his high school graduation. Jongin had worn them maybe five times.

Kyungsoo only gives him a quiet smile, entirely too soft around the edges, and Jongin’s heart trembles at the sight of it. He wonders if Yixing was right, if maybe he did get a lovestruck look on his face at the mere mention of Kyungsoo’s name. “You’re lucky I like you so much. Were you going to walk home?”

Jongin only manages to shake his head, quite stupidly at that, barely able to swallow. Kyungsoo is nearly half a head shorter than him, but somehow it’s Jongin who feels small. “The subway, it’s too far to walk.”

“I’ll walk you over,” Kyungsoo hums, smiling as he lets his hand slide over Jongin’s arm, a gentle nudge in the right direction. Jongin turns into it, falling into step with Kyungsoo, head ducked down. He watches Kyungsoo’s coat flap in the wind, wishing he had a scarf or something to burrow his face into.

“Aren’t you cold?” Jongin mumbles, fingers squeezing around his phone.

“I’m fine, it was pretty stuffy in there. Besides, you’re always more prone to the cold than me,” Kyungsoo reminds, a knowing glint in his eyes. Jongin hates how his cheeks warm up, how it’s so unfair that Kyungsoo can just say all these things with so much ease. Jongin sounds like a waste disposal unit when he tries to talk around Kyungsoo.

“I am not,” Jongin mutters, a rather poor attempt at a defense. How fucking far was this subway station, anyway? Jongin lets his gaze linger around him, people bustling past him, couples with fingers laced together, and mothers with cute little kids shuffling past.

“You used to steal my scarf all the time to wear inside the school because you were cold,” Kyungsoo mentions, arm brushing against Jongin’s, lingering longer than Jongin thinks is normal. He doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to acknowledge the way his heart is impossibly loud in his ears, a sick feeling in his gut. Possibilities scared Jongin.

“The school was always freezing,” Jongin whines, nevermind that he liked how Kyungsoo’s scarf had always smelled distinctly of mint and _Kyungsoo._ Jongin’s two favourite scents.

“Then you concede?” Kyungsoo inquires, eyebrow raised in Jongin’s direction.

“You sound like a nerd, hyung.” Jongin grins, the smell of simmering brown sugar wafting in the air. Jongin follows his nose, catching sight of the hotteok stand. He hasn’t had hotteok in ages, not since...

“Hyung! Hyung, let’s get hotteok,” Jongin exclaims, grabbing Kyungsoo’s arm and tugging him toward the street vendor, mouth already watering as he imagines hot, melted sugar washing over his tongue.

There’s a small line-up, but Jongin doesn’t mind, eyeing the lady flattening down little balls of batter with her press. In all his excitement, Jongin doesn’t realise he’s still got a grip on Kyungsoo’s arm, only realising when Kyungsoo shifts next to him, a small chuckle escaping him. “I haven’t had hotteok since your graduation.”

Nostalgia crashes into excitement, Jongin quietly pulling his hand away from Kyungsoo’s arm, thankful that the evening’s dimness would hide the blush blooming across his cheeks. “I’ll treat you this time, hyung. Just so its fair.”

“Are you going to buy me hundreds of them?” Kyungsoo smirks, knuckles knocking against Jongin’s chest, amused. “If I recall correctly, a certain someone was always getting his hyung to buy him hotteok after school.”

“I didn’t know you were keeping an account,” Jongin grumbles, and this feels too easy, slipping into conversation with Kyungsoo like nothing’s wrong, like Jongin’s not constantly on the edge of feeling too much and too little.

“Try that pout on someone else.” Kyungsoo’s smiling though, nudging Jongin toward the stand. Jongin doesn’t let his mind linger on Kyungsoo’s hand pressed into the small of his back, focusing on placing their order, but just as he pulls out his wallet, Kyungsoo’s handing the lady the money. Jongin flushes, ready to repay Kyungsoo, but his hands are full of two styrofoam cups, Kyungsoo shuffling them away from the stand.

“I said I would pay,” Jongin puffs, hands warm from the hotteok.

Kyungsoo shrugs, pulling Jongin over to the entrance of a closed bookshop. “I didn’t want to break tradition. Besides, you can pay me back somehow.”

Jongin heart skitters at the suggestion, Kyungsoo’s eyes wide and knowing as he takes one of the cups from Jongin. Everything feels a little unfair, Jongin bringing hot hotteok to his mouth and biting carefully. Warmth washes over him, the sweetness of the dough matching the pleasant curve of Kyungsoo’s lips. Jongin thinks very carefully about why leaning in and tasting brown sugar from Kyungsoo’s mouth wouldn’t be a good idea no matter how much his body sings with desire.

In all his focus, Jongin hisses as hot sugar lands in the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing the burned skin to his mouth to suck the sugar off. He inspects the injury, milder than the initial sting, skin bruised red.

“Are you okay?” Kyungsoo gasps, grabbing Jongin’s hand, fingers cold against Jongin’s burnt skin.

“I’m fine, hyung,” Jongin mumbles, blushing as he tries to tug his hand out of Kyungsoo’s grip. “It’s no -- ”

But Kyungsoo’s not listening, blowing cool air onto the small wound, and Jongin would be lying if he said it didn’t feel good, for more reasons than just pain alleviation. His stomach seems to fly upwards, pushing at the tightness in his chest, up his throat as he watches Kyungsoo’s cheeks puff up, concern knit between his brows.

“You still haven’t learned to be careful, then,” Kyungsoo admonishes with a sigh, glancing up at Jongin. His face feels like it’s on fire, lip caught between his teeth as he finally tugs his hand away from Kyungsoo.

“It’s, it doesn’t hurt... that much,” Jongin argues weakly, Kyungsoo’s eyes sharp, Jongin wilts under the gaze, eating quietly, if with a lot more care. Kyungsoo still manages to finish before him, taking Jongin’s empty cup from him, inspecting Jongin’s hand a second time. He doesn’t bother putting up a fight, not with Kyungsoo’s no-nonsense stare fixed on him.

“Do you like worrying me?" Kyungsoo asks, but he doesn't sound angry, possibly a little endearing. Jongin's not sure; his mind gets a little fuddled every time Kyungsoo touches him.

"Of course not." Jongin tries not to think about three am phone calls and disappearing into the depths of his room for a month after swallowing down the biggest heartbreak of his life.

"Then why do I always find myself fretting over you?" Kyungsoo lets his hand go, fingers lingering over Jongin's wrist distractedly. They feel nice, warm, like Jongin wishes they could belong there.

"Because you like me so much?" Jongin laughs nervously, throat dry as anticipation and fear bubble up his abdomen.

"And how much do you like me?" Kyungsoo asks, tone low, smooth, the heavy lidded look he gives Jongin inspiring something akin to the trepidation at the very tip of a roller coaster, like Jongin's life is about to flash before his eyes. He shudders, back pressing into the brick wall of a bookstore Jongin's never seen before in his life. "Tomorrow, after your shift, have coffee with me, alright? We can catch up."

"Uh, y-yeah," Jongin nods, suddenly so fucking terrified that his heartbeat seems to calm down, biting the urge to run after his heart as it seems to get ready to swan dive off a cliff with Kyungsoo.

"Come on, I promised to get you to the subway," Kyungsoo smiles, tugging on Jongin's wrist to kickstart him into motion. The rest of the night goes by in a quiet blur, Kyungsoo's fingers running through Jongin's hair as he waves him goodbye.

 

☼

 

It’s back. Jongin can feel it lurking behind him, watching him. His room suddenly feels too small, morphing into a landscape of black, something crawling up his throat and lodging itself. He can’t scream, can barely breathe, but it’s there and it’s getting closer and he needs to run.

Jongin stumbles forward, nearly tripping as he pushes forward, the abyss in front of him extending in every direction. He’s not even sure how he can make sense of it, how the ants crawling under his skin, quick, quick, quick, haven’t swallowed him up yet. Bile rises up his esophagus, but he doesn’t have time to stop, can already feel the burn in his calves, naked feet thumping against the ground.

There’s something on his shoulder, a hand, no not quite, pushing him back, trying to turn him around, and Jongin’s skin is bubbling under the touch. He can’t breathe, he can’t --

“Fuck,” Jongin gasps, jolting up in bed. He’s drenched in sweat, bed too cold, apartment dark save for the moonlight trickling in from his window. He glances at the door of his room, lying open, and scrambles out of bed to close it, back pressing against the wood. It’s not until his breathing evens out that he manages to crawl back into his bed, grabbing a discarded hoodie along the way. 

It’s only four. Jongin doesn’t need to be out of bed for another three hours.

 

☼

 

Nightmares had a tendency of keeping Jongin on edge for far longer than they reasonably should, but fear has him swimming through every little worry, over the very large and terrifyingly uncontrollable future.

The month was nearing its end, which meant he needed to get his next month’s rent ready, pay off his phone, internet, and cable, thankful that at least utilities were included in the rent. He had two papers due, plus readings for the next week, and he needed to get his application for his practicum in as soon as possible. Maybe ask Lu Han which department he wanted to work in.

“Earth to Jongin? Hello?” Jongdae waves a hand in his face, startling Jongin out of his thoughts. He doesn’t know how he’s ended up inside the diner, but Jongdae is staring at him with an amused grin, attempting to mask the worry in his eyes.

“Jongdae-hyung,” Jongin breathes, offering his best smile. It’s too bad he’s still wracked up with nerves, nearly jittery, almost nauseous. The scent of coffee wafting in the air doesn’t help. “Hi. Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Oh, I thought maybe you were planning on spontaneous combustion, what with that look of extreme concentration. You’ll have wrinkles and grey hair soon enough,” Jongdae comments, laughing. Jongin finds it eases the edge off; distractions always did.

“Everything’s just a little hectic,” Jongin mumbles, slipping past Jongdae to get to the back. He’s working in the front today, and there’s no chance of switching, not when Jinki was the shift supervisor. He liked to push Jongin out of his comfort zone, something about character building. Jongin really just wanted to crawl under a table and hide there for a few hours. Days, maybe.

He throws on his apron, work uniform looking a little sad for wear. He needed to do laundry, too. And his room was a mess, and maybe he could get the kitchen cleaned up as well. Jongin knew there was a reason he didn’t particularly care for lists. Visibly staring at his endless to do list always made him feel closer to throwing up.

“Okay, no more thinking, just doing,” Jongdae instructs, pushing Jongin over to the espresso machine. “I need a double shot small mocha with whip.”

Jongin slips into the motions easy enough, grateful that Jongdae was letting him work the bar. Although, waiting tables did usually suck enough energy and focus out of him that he forgot about everything else accumulating in his life.

Jongdae likes to play jazz at the diner, goes from table to table with a little skip in his step, like he might break out into dance any moment. Jongin sincerely hopes he doesn’t, perfectly aware of Jongdae’s ‘extensive’ dance skills from prior social engagements.

The noontime rush whizzes past them, post two o’clock lull settling in with a grateful sigh, allowing Jongin to scramble to the back to restock everything on the bar. He checks his phone after he’s stocked milk in the fridge, pretty sure he’d seen Jongdae caught up in a conversation with Jinki in the back, Kibum wiping tables clean.

_hey, you still up for coffee?_

Jongin stares at the text message, lip caught between his teeth, the day’s worries piling up on one side of the scale, and the prospect of a few hours with Kyungsoo on the other. The scale teeter-totters, and Jongin finds that neither option really frees him from the stiffness building up in his shoulders, neck beginning to ache. It probably doesn’t help that he slept fitfully after the nightmare.

He’s about to reply when his phone’s snatched out of his hands with an almost cartoonish speed, leaving Jongin staring dumbly at his hands for a split second. 

“Hyung! What the fuck are you doing?” Jongin hisses furiously, a few customers still lingering around the restaurant. 

“Letting Kyungsoo, heart heart, know that you are most definitely up for coffee,” Jongdae grins, handing Jongin his phone back. Jongin stares horrified at the message Jongdae’s sent, emojis and hearts littered throughout as if Jongin had exploded glitter everywhere. 

“Breathe,” Jongdae tells him, “you might burst a vein or something. Besides, it’s not like you were ever going to say yes. Give yourself a chance, nerd.”

“What if I don’t want to go get coffee, don’t make decisions for me!” Jongin exclaims, incensed. There is, possibly, a small part of Jongin that is sighing in relief, but Jongin’s never been fond of people poking through his business.

“Aw, it’s cute how you think we don’t all know you’re smitten with this Kyungsoo guy,” Jongdae smiles rather smugly, stacking freshly cleaned mugs onto the cupboard behind Jongin.

“I’m not -- How do you even know about Kyungsoo?” Jongin huffs, shoving his phone into his back pocket with entirely too much effort.

“Are we forgetting about the part where I’m dating Byun Baekhyun, local gossipmonger,” Jongdae says sweetly. “But don’t worry, we all pretty much guessed what was happening when you since you go into fumbling, stuttering mode everytime he comes in here.”

“He’s been here like, twice,” Jongin exhales, mortified and contemplating the likelihood of an earthquake hitting just the two square feet around him so that he might disappear entirely into the depths of the earth.

Jongdae only laughs, ruffling Jongin’s hair as he finishes stacking the mugs. Jongin should have known better than to even bother checking his phone at work.

 

☼

 

Kyungsoo shows up at four pm on the dot, as if punctuality were some kind of Olympic sport. Jongin’s sure he would score tens across the board, but unfortunately for him Jongin’s too busy in the back trying to blend in with the walls.

“Are you just going to make him stand out there?” Jongdae asks, already changed out of his work clothes. Jongin’s clutching the off-white sweater he’d grabbed on his way out, already well on the road to fucking things up. “He looks so sad. Aw, so short and sad.”

“You’re the exact same height,” Jongin says slowly, as if talking to a child. 

“Excuse me?” 

Jongin’s almost sure Jongdae’s New Year’s resolution had been to look more intimidating but he’s not doing so well on that front. “Uh, you’re tiny, hyung. Check base with reality sometime.”

“After everything I’ve done for you,” Jongdae huffs, “this is how you repay me? With insults!”

Jongin just rolls his eyes, disappearing into the bathroom to change out of his somewhat grimy black dress shirt. The sweater’s a little itchy, but Jongin ignores the scratchy feeling, shoving his dress shirt into his backpack. He checks his hair in the mirror, flushing when he realises he’s fussing over it looking neat. They were catching up. On what, exactly, Jongin had no clue, because his life was about as exciting as watching grass grow.

Kyungsoo’s dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a double-breasted grey coat, hair a little messy. He’s making small talk with Kibum when he notices Jongin, smile blooming across his features instantly. Jongin’s heart skips a beat.

“Sorry for the wait, hyung,” Jongin mumbles, feeling a little shabby standing next to Kyungsoo.

“I just got here,” Kyungsoo says, lips quirking into an amused smirk. Jongin makes an effort to stop staring at Kyungsoo’s mouth, waving goodbye to Kibum as he leads Kyungsoo out the door.

“How was your shift?” Kyungsoo asks once they’re outside, cool autumn breeze sending a little shiver down Jongin’s spine. He digs his hands into his baseball jacket’s pockets, grateful for the warmth.

“It was good, went by quickly,” Jongin answers, shuffling beside Kyungsoo as they walk down the street. Jongin doesn’t bother mentioning that he spent nearly three hours freaking out about seeing Kyungsoo, nearly spilling scalding hot chocolate on himself twice. “How was your day, hyung?”

“Boring,” Kyungsoo says. “I had a lab I needed to finish.”

“Are you done?” Jongin asks, unsure what else to talk about.

“All finished.” Kyungsoo lightly takes hold of Jongin’s elbow as they cross the street, steering him left toward an empty little cafe hidden between a lady’s boutique and an optometrist’s. Jongin’s walked past it before, but he’s never been inside. It smells like vanilla, quaint little chairs settled along the walls, with colourful arrangements of gerberas settled on every table. It’s neat and clean, a little homey, and Jongin’s not surprised Kyungsoo likes it. The staff seems to recognize him, too.

Jongin glances around, notes a few patrons settled at some of the tables, and the cherrywood bookcase nestled against the back wall. There’s a tap against his bicep, catching Jongin’s attention. He glances back in Kyungsoo’s direction, expectant.

“What did you want to get?” Kyungsoo asks, fingers wrapping around Jongin’s elbow. Jongin catches himself trying to lean into the press of fingers, into Kyungsoo’s slight frame, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

“Just a coffee, black,” Jongin says, looking away from Kyungsoo quickly. The barista places a cozy red mug in front of Jongin, black coffee swirling against the white along the inside of the cup. Jongin takes it gingerly, the scent of something spicy underlying the smell of the coffee.

Kyungsoo tugs Jongin over to a table by the bookshelf, draping his coat over the back. Jongin pretends that he doesn’t look ridiculously attractive in the black sweater he’s wearing, stark white collar snug against Kyungsoo’s neck and the press of black fabric. 

“Have you eaten yet?” Kyungsoo asks, focusing Jongin’s attention to his eyes and not the soft looking folds of his sweater. 

“Uh, no, I wasn’t really hungry this morning,” Jongin answers, smoothing his hands over his thighs.

“It’s four in the afternoon, Jongin,” Kyungsoo says. “Have you eaten anything all day?”

Jongin feels his cheeks heat up, shaking his head. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Are you sick?” The worry in Kyungsoo’s voice is near frantic, and Jongin’s not sure what he’s done to deserve so much.

“No, no. Just had another... I mean, I didn’t sleep very well,” Jongin replies, swallowing. He hasn’t really thought about the phone call since Lu Han had crashed at his place, didn’t really want to think about what it all meant. Kyungsoo’s frowning but he doesn’t press the matter

“Did you want to eat?” Kyungsoo asks, while Jongin fidgets with the hem of his sweater, staring at the menu in front of him. “We can go somewhere else.”

“Oh, no, I’ll be fine. I can eat when I get home,” Jongin rushes, leaning forward in his seat. Kyungsoo pushes the croissant he’d gotten with his latte toward Jongin. He gives Jongin a determined look, and Jongin knows better than to argue even if he wants to. Kyungsoo wasn’t very pliant when it came to taking care of people.

“How’s class? You have to start logging in clinical hours soon, right?” Kyungsoo inquires, taking a sip from his latte. Jongin thinks he could star in CF, hands steady and firm, eyes peering over the rim of his cup. He clenches his fingers around his mug, looking down at the little waves in his own cup. The watery blackness looks inviting, like Jongin could swim around in it with his myriad of thoughts.

“Busy, kinda overwhelming” Jongin says truthfully, figuring he may as well cave a little to all of Kyungsoo’s nagging. “We don’t start clinical hours until next semester, so there’s some time.”

“Are you nervous?”

Jongin wants to laugh, taking a sip of the coffee, bitterness rushing over his palette, but it’s refreshing, like a splash of cold water to the face in the morning. He blinks, taking in another gulp, careful not to burn his tongue. “Yeah. I mean, I’m worried about the workload. I don’t know if I can keep up.”

“You manage school and work now,” Kyungsoo reminds him. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble at all.”

Jongin swallows down the butterflies trying to lift him off his feet, swarming around happily at Kyungsoo’s praise. He feels ridiculous, sweeping his fringe out of his eyes. Kyungsoo’s staring at him, smile soft and encouraging, sending Jongin’s heart on a marathon. 

“Ah, hyung, you’re too nice.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Jongin’s breath hitches as he feels Kyungsoo’s foot slide next to his, ankle hooking around Jongin’s, holding him in place. There isn’t even a hint of a blush on Kyungsoo’s cheeks and Jongin can’t fathom where he gets the confidence, let alone wrap his head around the warmness of Kyungsoo’s leg pressing into his.

They stay for longer than Jongin could have anticipated, Kyungsoo telling Jongin about his job as an assistant researcher to a professor, and how he’d recently started working at a small cafe to help Minseok out. A few shifts, here and there. Kyungsoo was pretty busy too, between classes and figuring out applications for medical school. Jongin listens carefully, swallowing every little detail until he has a belly full of them. He feels calm, content simply from the lull of Kyungsoo’s words, grateful that Kyungsoo never asked for more than Jongin could offer.

 

☼

 

“That’s it?” Lu Han says around a mouthful of noodles. Jongin’s not even disgusted, which should maybe cause him such concern, but he’s feeling properly hungry for the first time in days.

“What do you mean, that’s it?”

Jongin’s apartment isn’t furnished with much, the two-seater a gift from his sister and her husband and the television from his parents. He’d bought the small dining table from one of his neighbours when they were moving out, but Jongin rarely eats at it, not with the clutter of textbooks and old class notes and assignments spread out all over it. 

They’re squished onto the couch together watching a pirated copy of _21 Jump Street_ , Jongin slumping down in his seat to rest his head against Lu Han’s shoulder.

“Well, good on you for not putting out,” Lu Han says, patting Jongin’s head. “He bought you a few coffees, it’s not much.”

“What?”

“He’s obviously trying to get into your pants,” Lu Han explains, guffawing as Captain Dickson yells at Schmidt for praying to Korean Jesus. Classic. Jongin had never really seen someone go from spectacularly good looking to god-awful ugly the way Lu Han always demonstrated when he started laughing, jaw unhinging like a python ready to swallow its prey whole. 

“Hyung isn’t like that,” Jongin defends, stretching to put his empty plate on the ground. He settles back into Lu Han, absorbing his body heat.

“Oh, so you want him to get into your pants.”

“I didn’t say that, you dick,” Jongin mutters, even as his face colours pink.

“You don’t have to. I’ve seen you moon over Do Kyungsoo. He has tiny shoulders, man. You sure you want to commit to that?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Lu Han’s laugh rumbles around them, and Jongin likes the way it lingers in the air, fills the apartment up. Maybe after living in a house with four other people, living by himself had gotten old quickly. Loneliness certainly hadn’t snuck up on Jongin so much as it’d sunk its teeth right in.

“Did you think about it?” Jongin breaks the silence, stretching to look up at Lu Han. They’re probably a little too close for comfort, but Jongin’s too lazy to move, weary from too much excitement and the hours he’s spent on his anatomy homework. He should’ve dropped the last year, but showing up to the midterm without studying had predictably not worked in his favour.

“About what?” Lu Han’s got his plate sitting in his lap, clean of carrots Jongin had left behind on his own.

“Moving in,” Jongin says, glancing back at the television. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, and maybe Jongin should be a little more tactful, but he’s always been a bit shit at it.

“Give a dog a bone,” Lu Han sighs. “Do I get your bed if I move in?”

“It’s big enough -- we could share,” Jongin smiles, trying very hard to hide the surging joy. This tasted a little too much like victory.

“I don’t want your germs,” Lu Han gags, arm hanging off Jongin’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, that’s why you eat food off my plate all the time,” Jongin snorts.

“We’re looking for a new place when your lease ends. I want my own room,” Lu Han tells him, and it’s as much agreement as Jongin’s going to get. He doesn’t complain, just nods, unable to hold back his smile.

 

☼

 

Lu Han moves in from the hole in the wall apartment he barely spends any time in by the end of the next week. He has less shit than Jongin, but they still struggle to drag the sofa bed up the stairs, the elevator of Jongin’s apartment having given up functionality almost six months ago. Luckily, he only lived on the third floor and the spiralling staircase leading up to his floor was wide enough that they could pause for rest.

They stick Lu Han’s sofa bed in front of the television, cramming Jongin’s couch along the wall of the small living room. It kinda looks nicer, Jongin’s green couch blending in with Lu Han’s brighter blue one. Lu Han also has a space heater, and Jongin’s never been so thankful about something in his life.

“So your toaster doesn’t actually work,” Lu Han deadpans.

“Uh, no,” Jongin answers, staring at the guilty appliance. Bonding with kitchen appliances was perhaps not the healthiest of things to do, but at last the toaster listened to him whine about the difficulty of his life.

“Right,” Lu Han says, grabbing it from off the counter and chucking it into the garbage bag he’d thrown half the contents of Jongin’s fridge into. Jongin is a little bad at throwing away expired condiments, no big deal. Everyone had flaws.

“Why are you throwing it away!” Jongin exclaims, making to pull the toaster out of the garbage bag.

“Because I have one that works,” Lu Han says slowly, eyeing Jongin with a certain level of concern. “And here I thought my life was in shambles next to yours.”

“Don’t worry, you’re still a loser,” Jongin defends, silently saying goodbye to Mr. Toaster. 

Lu Han throws an empty instant noodles cup at Jongin, which he dodges expertly, laughing at Lu Han’s shitty aim. It’s nearly six in the evening, and Jongin’s tired beyond belief. They’d been at it since ten that morning, lugging Lu Han’s stuff around, and then cleaning up his mess of an apartment.

“What exactly do you eat? There’s no food in your house,” Lu Han huffs, collapsing onto the sofa. Jongin’s already sprawled out on the floor, staring at the ceiling, eyes tracing patterns between the scuffs and cracks. 

“I ate at the diner two days in a row,” Jongin replies. “There’s coffee.”

“Of course. Kim Jongin’s essential food groups: coffee, Shin Ramyun, and fried chicken.”

“That’s basically all you eat,” Jongin yawns, mouth watering at the mention of fried chicken. He hasn’t gone grocery shopping in a more than a week, surviving off of coffee and take out. There hadn’t been any time between the upcoming test in his anatomy class (which he doesn’t feel so great about despite Lu Han’s poor attempts at consolation) and the midterm for his psychiatric mental health nursing class.

“I want to sleep,” Lu Han starts, “but my stomach might eat itself.”

“The grocery store’s like fifteen minutes away,” Jongin offers, eyes heavy with sleep. He thinks about the banana milk he could buy, and possibly even some bread now that he had a working toaster again.

Lu Han has to pull Jongin off the floor, before hauling him out of the apartment. They take nearly twice as long getting to the store, steps sluggish as they make their way over. Lu Han spots a butcher’s shop up head, telling Jongin they were going to have samgyeopsal tonight, poor or not.

Jongin heads for the Shin Ramyun, grabbing some vegetables along the way. The grocery store isn’t huge, but the scent of dried mushrooms and ginseng envelop every corner. He’s just thrown some shrimp crackers into his basket when Lu Han finds him, waving banana milk in one hand, white bag with their pork belly dangling from the other.

“Did you get carrots?” Lu Han asks, as they make it to the cashier to pay for everything.

“No, they’re gross,” Jongin replies, smiling at the old lady standing behind the register. Lu Han smacks him before disappearing and Jongin contemplates his success rate at perhaps accidentally losing the carrots Lu Han brings back seconds later.

“Thank you,” Lu Han smiles at the old lady, grabbing one of the bags. Jongin turns to follow, but he collides into someone, nearly tipping back into the counter.

“I’m so sorry,” Jongin rushes to say, reaching down to pick up a bottle of water. When he straightens out, he’s surprised to find Kyungsoo smiling at him in amusement, taking the water bottle Jongin awkwardly attempts to hand over. “Hyung…”

“Are you finally buying some real food?” Kyungsoo smiles, placing a few water bottles and a cluster of tomatoes on the counter.

“Uh, sort of,” Jongin replies, holding the bag of instant noodles and banana milk a little tighter. Of course Lu Han would grab the bag with the _real_ food in it. “What’re you doing here? I mean, you don’t live around here, right?”

“No,” Kyungsoo responds, handing the cashier money to pay for his groceries. “I had to go over to a friend’s to work on an assignment.”

“Oh,” Jongin says, trying hard not to sound put out. Kyungsoo obviously had friends, and it’s not like he could just be in love with all of them, or something. “I hope you worked hard.”

Kyungsoo’s smirking at him, that knowing twinkle in his eyes. He slips the bag of groceries into his backpack, throwing it over his shoulder afterward. “I did. And you, what’ve you been up to? Besides helping your friend move in.”

Jongin had, for once, made an effort to keep up with Kyungsoo’s texts, keeping his phone very far away from Jongdae’s snooping eyes. Yixing had told him to follow his heart, so he was attempting to do something like that. It was unfortunate that Jongin’s heart was easily scared.

“Hey Jongin! Where did you -- Oh…” Lu Han’s eyes widen as he spots Kyungsoo standing next to Jongin, a blush rising to his cheeks as Lu Han’s look of surprise morphs into knowing satisfaction. 

Jongin jumps into action, bowing to the old lady as he shuffles Lu Han out of the shop, threatening to switch his favourite hand cream with gochujang if he says anything incriminating. Kyungsoo follows them out, putting a quick end to Jongin’s threats, which were probably a waste of breath anyway, what with the devilish smirk on Lu Han’s lips.

“Kyungsoo, right?” Lu Han greets, when they’re not blocking the entrance to the shop. “Jongin loves talking about you. It’s unfortunate I couldn’t go to high school with you, too. I’m Lu Han.”

Jongin elbows Lu Han as discreetly as possible, fighting the heat spreading from his cheeks all the way to his ears. Oh god, could this get any worse.

“Oh, I didn’t know Jongin liked talking about me so much,” Kyungsoo smirks, eyeing Jongin from the corner of his eye. Jongin thinks he might explode from sheer embarrassment, opting to look anywhere but at his friends. “But it’s nice to meet you, Lu Han. I’m glad this idiot has someone looking after him.”

“We were just about to have dinner, actually. Did you want to come over? Since you’re in the neighbourhood and all,” Lu Han smiles sweetly, using his best church choir boy voice. It was usually reserved for begging professors for extensions. 

“Is that okay with you Jongin?” Kyungsoo asks, fingers finding the cuff of his jacket, smoothing over the small jut of bone at his wrist.

“Uh, of course, why wouldn’t it be,” Jongin says, stumbling over the words before sending Lu Han a glare. Maybe if he stared long enough, Lu Han would drop dead.

“I’d be honoured, then,” Kyungsoo smiles, always polite. 

Jongin spends the walk back to their apartment in silence, leading the way back home, and trying very hard not to listen to Lu Han make less than subtle comments about Jongin’s infatuation with Kyungsoo. To Kyungsoo’s credit, he laughs along, getting along with Lu Han better than Jongin expects.

Jongin knows he’s been doing better since Lu Han’s finally caved in to the idea of moving in with Jongin. Feeling flustered and anxious at smaller tasks occurs a little less, and even the sadness is a little easier to shake off. There’s a thin, flickering ray of hope dangling in the future, and it puts Jongin a little at ease. He could handle this dinner, of course he could.

Taking a deep breath, Jongin lets himself into the apartment, Lu Han trailing after him. He’s thankful they cleaned up a little before the grocery store adventure, even if Lu Han had proven what a horrible, traitorous friend he was. Jongin knew Yixing was the only one who really cared about him.

“I don’t think I’ve been here since you moved in,” Kyungsoo mentions as he slides his coat off, draping it over the back of the sofa. Lu Han’s thrown his over a dining room chair, bringing the groceries to the kitchen. Jongin stands awkwardly in the living room, aligning their shoes properly against the welcome mat, hanging his coat up in the closet. 

“Oh, did you help Jongin move in?” Lu Han asks, pulling vegetables out of the bags. Jongin has a sinking feeling about this whole cooking thing, especially considering that between Lu Han and him, they had about a fifty percent success rate at making real food.

“Yeah, his parents were worried about him moving out,” Kyungsoo replies. “They called my mother and asked her if I could help him out. Jongin’s hair had been a mess back then, too long.”

There’s a creeping fondness in Kyungsoo’s voice that Jongin doesn’t know what to do with, but his heart is galloping ahead of him, fingers itching to trace down his shoulders, feel the softness of Kyungsoo’s skin under his sweater. Jongin stays quiet, though, untrusting of what stupid things he might say if he gives his mouth free reign. Instead, he helps Lu han quietly unpack everything, wishing they’d grabbed some beer from the convenience store on the way back.

“Are you making samgyeopsal?” Kyungsoo settles into the kitchen like the apartment is his, grabbing the pot in Jongin’s hand and placing it on the stovetop himself.

“Hyung, you should sit, we can make the food,” Jongin insists, about to tug Kyungsoo out of the kitchen.

“Is Lu Han a good cook?” Kyungsoo holds Jongin still with just his eyes, wide and breathtaking. “I know you’re not.”

Lu Han breaks out into laughter, pointing at Jongin as if he hadn’t burnt congee once, when he’d been trying to nurse Jongin back to health. Jongin throws an empty plastic bag at him, satisfied when it hits him in the face.

“Lu Han hyung can’t cook for shit,” Jongin tells Kyungsoo with a glare sent in Lu Han’s direction -- which is how they’re both shooed out of the kitchen by Kyungsoo, who works effortlessly and efficiently by himself, occasionally asking Jongin where certain things were located. Lu Han uses the time to nap, and Jongin spends it staring at Kyungsoo none too subtly, if the number of times he gets caught is anything indication.

“You know, I won’t disappear,” Kyungsoo tells him when Jongin gets caught the tenth time, hooded eyes flickering in Jongin’s direction. Jongin ignores the heat travelling down his abdomen, settling between his legs rather unfortunately.

“I know,” Jongin breathes, grabbing a bottle of banana milk from the fridge. He needed to distract himself, somehow. Maybe he could do some of his readings, but he wanted to be available if Kyungsoo needed anything. He felt bad enough that Kyungsoo was cooking for them when this wasn’t even his home.

“How about you get some plates and bowls?” Kyungsoo instructs, and Jongin scrambles to help, the desire to please Kyungsoo something Jongin shoves into the same compartment he keeps all his other troubling Kyungsoo-related feelings.

When he turns around, plates in hand, he nearly drops everything, Kyungsoo suddenly way too close, way too fast. Jongin doesn’t even breathe as Kyungsoo’s hand braces over his abdomen, sliding lower slowly as he leans around Jongin. He pulls back with a sheet of paper towel in hand, smile anything but innocent. Jongin shudders as his eyes drag up to meet Kyungsoo’s, smirk small but visible.

“Go wake up Lu Han, food’s ready.”

Jongin bolts out of the kitchen, plates left forgotten on the counter as his heart hammers against his rib cage, skin burning where Kyungsoo had pressed into him. Jongin’s hands quiver as he shakes Lu Han awake, mouth dry. Lu Han grumbles as he wakes up, the allure of food dragging him to the table. Jongin’s pretty sure he wasn’t this bad at getting up, even if he tended to only be half-alert for the first few hours of his wakefulness.

Kyungsoo brings the samgyeopsal to the table, while Jongin pours everyone a bowl of rice, setting the table as he attempts not to even accidentally brush against Kyungsoo. He grabs the kimchi, and the oijangajji his mother sent him, noticing that Kyungsoo’s made kongnamul. Jongin’s not sure when, but it’s not like he was paying attention to what Kyungsoo was cooking. Just Kyungsoo.

He flushes at the thought, jerking in surprise when a hand smooths over his back, breath caught in his throat. Kyungsoo just smiles taking the kongnamul from Jongin before taking a seat at the table. Jongin slides into the chair next to Kyungsoo, tucking a foot under his thigh as he sits.

Still sleepy, Lu Han hums contently as he eats, Jongin keeping his focus on the food this time, and maybe sometimes glancing at the shape of Kyungsoo’s hands. They eat quietly, Jongin’s hand brushing Kyungsoo’s once when they both go to grab a piece of lettuce. Jongin flinches away, apologising to Kyungsoo before shoving rice into his mouth. Lu Han quirks an eyebrow at him, but Jongin ignores it, feeling excessively stupid for being so conscious of himself.

He stares at his rice instead, wondering if it were possible to sink into them and disappear, never to be found again. _All you do is look for places to get lost,_ he tells himself, appetite suddenly gone.

“I’ll get the dishes,” Lu Han says, taking his bowl to the sink. “That was literally the best food I’ve had in months. Thanks so much, Kyungsoo.”

“You need to raise your standards,” Kyungsoo grins. “My mother’s is ten times better than this.”

“I guess I’ll have to meet your parents then,” Lu Han snickers, sending Jongin a wink. Jongin rolls his eyes, avoiding eye contact with Kyungsoo as he begins tidying the table. 

“Did you want to take the leftovers home, hyung?” Jongin asks, shier than he wants to be. He couldn’t believe himself.

“I’m capable of cooking for myself. I’ll leave you two unfortunate souls with the last remnants of actual food in your apartment,” Kyungsoo replies, a little smug.

“You’re far too kind, Do-sshi,” Lu Han plays along. “So merciful.”

“Everyone has to make sacrifices,” Kyungsoo says solemnly, helping Jongin transfer things into tupperware. Jongin’s pretty sure he has more than half his mother’s collection at this point, making a note to take some of it back. His parents weren’t made of money.

Jongin tunes out the conversation between Lu Han and Kyungsoo, focusing on not squeaking every time Kyungsoo so much as brushes against Jongin. In high school, Jongin used to drape himself over Kyungsoo, using his height as leverage for backhugs. Now, Jongin’s having heart palpitations standing in the same room as Kyungsoo.

Things changed, of course. Kyungsoo had never dragged his fingers down Jongin’s back so slowly before, Jongin’s thin t-shirt barely hiding the shiver in his spine.

 

☼

 

The house is a maze, morphing from his own childhood bedroom to the halls of his high school. Jongin stumbles through everything, bright light pouring in from the windows, blurring everything under a fuzzy shine. His body feels sluggish, fingers trailing behind him as he lets them drag against the wall.

Jongin turns a corner, realises that he hasn’t heard a single sound since he left his apartment, knocking two fingers against the glass of a window. He regrets it immediately, stumbling backwards as an alarm goes off when the windows shatter, a shower of glass shards exploding outwards.

The light’s gone, and Jongin knows it’s here. It’s coming.

He trips, like always, picking himself up in a daze of rushing fear, running in the opposite direction. His legs never carry him fast enough, blackness creeping in around him, swallowing everything whole. Jongin’s lungs burn, and he watches the endless hallway disappear, a little speck of white at the end.

It’s behind him, it’s so close, Jongin’s being swallowed, tendrils of darkness pulling him back. He can’t hear himself scream, he can’t --

“Jongin!” Lu Han’s voice, Lu Han’s hands shaking him awake. Lu Han. 

Jongin’s eyes finally focus in on his friend, fingers curling into his t-shirt, impossibly tight. It wasn’t there, it couldn’t be. Just Lu Han.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It was a nightmare, shh,” Lu Han whispers, allowing Jongin to pull him closer, arms enveloping Jongin in a hug. His hand runs through Jongin’s hair, holds Jongin a little closer. Jongin’s ear presses against Lu Han’s chest, heartbeat a little panicked but calmer than Jongin’s, not erratic. Lu Han smells like stale laundry detergent.

Jongin’s breathing settles after a few minutes, Lu Han’s constant flow of reassurance cocooning Jongin like a safety net. He falls back into his bed, blinking back tears. Lu Han’s looking at him with wide eyes, but he’s still there, he hasn’t left yet.

“You were screaming,” Lu Han explains, pulling away from Jongin slowly, hand still tangled in Jongin’s hair. “Good thing I’m a light sleeper, hmm.”

“I’m sorry,” Jongin exhales, refusing to let go of Lu Han. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something would gobble him up the second Lu Han left, the second he let go.

“For having a nightmare? I don’t think that’s your fault,” Lu Han sighs, relieved. He’s still there, and not for the first time, Jongin is grateful that he moved in, that Lu Han is reliable, and comforting, and weirdly good at supporting Jongin.

“You barely sleep as is,” Jongin mumbles, head settling against Lu Han’s thigh. There are goosebumps forming along Jongin’s arms, the hairs along the back of his neck standing upright, shiver setting in. He’s drenched in sweat again.

“Move over,” Lu Han says, sneaking in under Jongin’s blanket. Lu Han is impossibly warm, and Jongin burrows into him a little shamelessly, shivering. Lu Han doesn’t seem to mind, hand smoothing over Jongin’s back repeatedly. “I sleep pretty well here, you know. Living by yourself is lonely.”

Jongin snuffles in agreement, Lu Han’s quiet laugh reverberating through Jongin soundlessly.

 

☼

 

For the first time since Jongin’s favourite nightmare began, he manages to sleep afterward. Lu Han spends the morning fretting over Jongin, and Jongin lets him, especially since the dark circles under Lu Han’s eyes look especially bad today.

Jongin makes it through class in once piece, drained of energy, the promise of fried chicken bringing him to his last task of the day. Dance class.

Yixing’s already inside, a few of their students piled in, stretching. Jongin slips his bag off his shoulder, placing it next to Yixing’s before joining him at the front of the room. He’s in a snapback today, the one Jongin had bought him for his birthday, floral print as wildly colourful as Yixing himself. 

“Hey hyung.”

Yixing perks up at the sound of Jongin’s voice, looking up toward Jongin. He’s sitting with his right leg extended, the other bent inwards as he leans over in the direction of the extended leg. “Jongin-ah! You made it, I was getting a little worried.”

“I never miss class,” Jongin says, taking a seat next to Yixing.

“I know, that’s why I was worried. Taehyung’s mother sent us oranges, take them home with you, okay.”

“I thought they were for us,” Jongin points out, bending over his legs to touch his feet.

“You need them,” Yixing insists, the _more_ left unsaid. Jongin wants to smack Yixing, but he feels closer to crying than anything else. Emotional instability really wore a person thin.

Yixing gets the class rolling after that, Jongin running through the choreo with the kids as Yixing walked around the room, correcting footwork and posture. They made a good team, Yixing’s patience like an endless stream. Jongin could at least attest that he wasn’t complete shit at dancing, even if he’d fucked up his K-Arts audition thanks to sheer panic.

“She totally has a crush on you,” Jongin laughs, as one of the girls waves goodbye to Yixing for the nth time. Young love.

“She’s also thirteen,” Yixing reminds Jongin, smacking him.

“I didn’t say you should date her, gross hyung,” Jongin says with a wrinkle of his nose, laughing when Yixing just misses the kick he’s aimed at Jongin’s ass. Jongin sticks out his tongue, grabbing his water bottle.

“Speaking of dating, how’s your loverboy?” Yixing asks, catching up to Jongin. He tips Jongin’s water bottle forward, splashing water all over Jongin’s face, Jongin’s gasps unheard over Yixing’s laughter. There’s water running down Jongin’s neck, soaking his t-shirt so Jongin does the only sensible thing and splashes the remnants of his bottle all over Yixing.

“He’s doing better than you,” Jongin snickers, Yixing’s offended squawking finally coming to an end.

“So does that mean you grew a pair?”

“Hyung,” Jongin gasps, throwing the empty bottle at Yixing, who’s too busy laughing to even bother dodging. “You’re supposed to be nice to me.”

“And why’s that, hmm?” Yixing asks through a giant smile. He loops his arm over Jongin’s shoulders, dragging him out of the room. “What’s the hold up?”

“Dating people is terrifying,” Jongin answers. “And I mean, he’s _Kyungsoo._ ”

“So? You’re _Jongin,_ ; anyone would be lucky to have you. Don’t be a moron,” Yixing argues, patting Jongin’s shoulder. They make it to the front doors, a few of the kids still waiting for their parents to pick them up. They’re busy amongst themselves, leaving Jongin and Yixing alone.

Jongin bites back the _I’m a loser, hyung_ that’s sitting on the tip of his tongue, smiling defeatedly instead. “The only person I ever dated was Jung Soojung, and that was because she wouldn’t leave me alone. Coincidentally, also thirteen.”

“Thirteen year olds are persistent,” Yixing nods.

“I dunno, it’s scary.”

“Life is scary, but if that’s your only excuse, then it’s shit.”

“Thanks, hyung. Great talk.”

“How about you try telling him you like him and go from there? I don’t even know the guy, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be falling all over yourself if he didn’t seem a little interested.”

“Stop doing that,” Jongin huffs, spotting Lu Han through the doors.

“Doing what?”

“Being all wise and sensible,” Jongin answers as he makes to open the door for Lu Han. There’s one more boy waiting for his mother, so Jongin just pulls Lu Han in. Yixing looks a little surprised by Jongin’s company, but he smiles warmly.

“Hyung, this is my best friend Lu Han!” Jongin introduces. “Lu Han, this is Yixing-hyung.”

Whatever Yixing says isn’t in Korean and suddenly Jongin is caught off-guard in the midst of quick, excited Mandarin. It’s a little weird, standing there without knowing anything being said save for the few times his name pops up. Jongin smiles encouragingly though, waving goodbye to the last kid as he disappears through the doors.

The loud bang of the door shutting behind him cuts the conversation short, as Yixing flinches, looking over Lu Han’s shoulder. “Everyone’s left?”

“Just us, hyung,” Jongin responds, grinning knowingly at Lu Han. He’s staring at Yixing like he’s never seen another human being before, entirely enraptured. Yixing gives him a big smile, the sweet, kind ones he reserves mostly for Jongin when it’s clear Jongin’s feeling miserable.

“Oh, well, we should get going. I have to get back to the restaurant. It was very nice to meet you,” Yixing smiles, directing the last bit to Lu Han. He adds something in Mandarin that Lu Han responds to before murmuring a goodbye to Jongin.

Jongin stares at Lu Han, eyebrow raised, lips pressed together to hold back the giant grin trying to burst forward. Maybe this was why Lu Han loved teasing Jongin about his love life related woes. Lu Han only pushes Jongin out the door, keeping steadfastly quiet until Jongin’s smug silence breaks his resolve.

“That job you mentioned earlier, is it still up for grabs?” Lu Han asks, attempting to sound disinterested. Jongin stifles his laughter. “Not that I want it, or anything,” he adds quickly, hands digging into the pockets of his coat.

“Really? Why the interest then?”

“I’m just curious,” Lu Han mumbles.

“It’s open. I’ll let the owner know you’re interested,” Jongin smirks, rather satisfied with this turn of events. Lu Han, despite making friends everywhere he went, always kept careful distance between himself and others. Jongin had slipped through the cracks but Yixing seemed to have created a few cracks of his own. 

“I hate you,” Lu Han mutters, before adding in a quick thanks. Jongin lets him have it, the bus stop near. When they make it there, Lu Han sighs, glancing at Jongin. “Yixing seemed... nice.”

“You sound awfully eager,” Jongin sings teasingly, eyebrow quirked up at Lu Han.

“And if I am?” Lu Han shoves at Jongin, ducking his head down. Jongin knows he’s blushing and he kind of wants to shove his phone in Lu Han’s face and take a dozen pictures.

“It’s okay hyung. You have my blessing, but if you break Yixing-hyung’s heart, I’ll rip your dick off.”

“Should I give that same speech to Kyungsoo?”

Jongin almost succeeds in shoving Lu Han into a garbage bin.

 

☼

Jongin stares at his anatomy notes, sinking back into his chair. Mindless memorizing wasn't his strongest skill, and then there was the occasional difficulty of focusing long enough to absorb it all. He stares at his phone, the blinking green light distracting. 

Lu Han’s passed out on the couch, having just finished a lab write up. There’s an empty bowl of Shin Ramyun next to his textbook and countless diagrams of the central nervous system scattered around the dining room table. Across the table, in an equally untidy cluster, are Lu Han’s lab notes and a crudely drawn diagram of the human heart with Lu Han’s messy Korean pointing at various parts. He’d tried to help but Jongin had felt guilty, taking up his time. At the very least, Jongin had mastered drawing the heart, even if his diagram never looked as good as the one in the textbook.

Sighing, Jongin grabs his phone, unlocking the front screen to read the text from Kyungsoo he knows is there.

_how’s studying?_

_terrible,_ Jongin writes back, sucking in a deep breath. Kyungsoo was probably busy with his own schoolwork; pre-med had always sounded terrifying to Jongin.

The reply lights up the screen seconds later, and Jongin wonders if studying has spent as much of Kyungsoo’s energy has it has Jongin’s.

_lol studying anatomy?_

Jongin blinks in surprise, sending a quick reply back. _yeah. am i that predictable?_

_you only seem to hate anatomy. i can help you out, if you want. i did pretty well in my course_

Jongin’s probably smiling stupidly at his phone screen, Yixing’s love-struck look, but he doesn’t care. Having Kyungsoo’s attention made him feel warm, like a day spent lying in bed doing absolutely nothing. Jongin hadn’t had one of those in a while.

_only if you have time. i don’t wanna bother you_

_i always have time for you_

 

☼

 

Jongin finds himself standing in front of Kyungsoo’s apartment, somehow still in one piece. He’d been a little unsure about making if off the subway when he’d thought himself into a panic, entirely possible scenarios passing through his thoughts. What if Jongin accidentally set Kyungsoo’s apartment on fire? Or worse, what if he tried to talk and nothing but crying sounds came out because he was in Kyungsoo’s _apartment?_

Kyungsoo had said to call him when he got there, Jongin having followed the directions he’d been emailed. Thankfully, Jongin’s list of fatal flaws did not include a terrible sense of direction, and he’d overcome (sort of) his increasing fear of somehow fucking this whole thing up. 

“You can do this,” Jongin whispers encouragingly to himself, hitting dial. Kyungsoo picks up on the third ring, voice like velvet.

“Hello? Jongin?”

“Kyungsoo-hyung! I’m waiting downstairs,” Jongin says, licking his lips. This is a study session, he tells himself, a mini mantra to keep him from bolting. Granted, studying in someone’s apartment might be a little terrifying since no one else would be around, but Jongin could do this. 

The sound of a loud buzz startles Jongin, phone nearly slipping out of his hand. The security guard on the other side of the front doors snorts, causing Jongin to blush, fingers gripping his phone a little tighter.

“Seventh floor, right?” Jongin mumbles, keeping his head low as he shuffles inside, heading toward the elevators.

“Apartment four,” Kyungsoo reminds.

“Thanks, hyung. I’ll be there soon,” Jongin smiles, ending the call. He takes a deep breath when the elevator dings open, empty. Jongin’s grateful about that, stepping inside quietly. When the doors slide shut, Jongin sags against the walls, clearly working himself up over nothing.

Kyungsoo wasn’t going to hate Jongin forever because of the slight chance that Jongin might tip over a glass of water set too close to Kyungsoo’s notes. No, because that wasn’t going to happen. Lu Han had mumbled something about Jongin being hopeless when he’d left the apartment. Jongin didn’t want to admit he was.

He knocks on Kyungsoo’s door exactly five times, a fist of flurry of motion before a finger presses his lower lip against his teeth, biting on the skin. Kyungsoo opens the door with a smile, and for the first time in a while, Jongin finds Kyungsoo in a t-shirt, the neckline a little too big. Jongin can spot the moles along his neck, the ones he’s definitely never thought about tracing with his mouth. No siree.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo grins, looking far too happy to see Jongin.

“Hi,” Jongin exhales, stepping in as Kyungsoo pulls him inside. The apartment is nicer than Jongin’s, despite being a bachelor’s, but then Kyungsoo’s parents were both dentists so that made sense. He isn’t envious, just a little terrified he might ruin something.

“I set up in the kitchen,” Kyungsoo tells Jongin, leading him over to his kitchen table. It’s small, just two chairs, and Kyungsoo’s shifted them both over to the same side, notes placed in a neat pile in a corner. There’s a bowl of shrimp crackers and two cartons of strawberry milk, and Jongin already thinks Kyungsoo is perfect, but the little reminders are welcome. “I have more in the fridge.”

“You’re the best hyung,” Jongin grins, grabbing a carton as he takes a seat, Kyungsoo sliding into the chair next to him. He’s sitting terribly close, knee pressing into Jongin’s as he leans over his notes, glancing back at Jongin.

“I thought maybe I’d test you on some stuff to figure out where you needed help the most,” Kyungsoo offers, diving right in. He shuffles through his notes, pulling out what appears to be an old test. Jongin doesn’t miss the 95 percent scribbled in the top right corner. Jongin had struggled to get the 80 on his midterm, relief mixing in with a little pride. Pushing away his natural instincts to compare himself, Jongin focuses on answering Kyungsoo’s questions, frustration getting the better of him when he blanks out on some of the more obvious things.

“You’re a visual learner, right?” Kyungsoo asks, after he’s gone through three different tests, allowing for a small break. Jongin nods his head, collapsing on top of his anatomy textbook. He rubs at his eyes, sighing as he goes over homeostasis feedback loops in his head.

A hand runs through his hair, Jongin’s body stiffening, breath caught in his throat. Kyungsoo settles his hand at the base of Jongin’s neck, and Jongin’s terrified of moving, doesn’t want Kyungsoo to stop rubbing little circles into Jongin’s skin with his thumb. His fingers are warm, Jongin’s pulse thickening.

Kyungsoo’s hand combs through his hair a few more times before Jongin turns to look at him, unsure what to do with the fond look Kyungsoo’s giving him. It feels a little like Jongin’s been wrapped in a blanket, and he smiles stupidly before sighing and straightening out. Kyungsoo slides his hand down Jongin’s spine, simultaneously comforting and agonizing before he pulls away.

They go over the dreaded CNS first, Kyungsoo drawing out flowcharts for Jongin to follow along, asking Jongin to go into detail about how the body detected pain and smells. As Jongin stumbles through his answers, trying not to go through his notes, Kyungsoo smiles encouragingly, turning Jongin’s anxious desire to impress Kyungsoo into a simmering happiness that he was doing better than he expected.

Studying with Kyungsoo is successful, if success is measured by the number of times Jongin’s managed to not get caught staring at the graceful arch of his neck, or the five moles disappearing down his t-shirt. He’s also managed to memorise the various muscle types located in the human body and given Kyungsoo details about their purpose. Jongin’s diagram of the heart even looks less horrible, Kyungsoo carefully pointing out that Jongin’s left atrium was bigger than it needed to be.

“I’m not sure what you were so worried about, you practically know everything,” Kyungsoo compliments, leaning in toward Jongin, his hand settling on Jongin’s thigh. Jongin’s supposed to be drawing a diagram of the digestive system, but his own stomach is attempting to grumble and twist at the same time. Jongin’s not sure if he’s hungry or if Kyungsoo’s sending his body into haywire again.

His chin is resting on the edge of Jongin’s shoulder, arm pressing into Jongin’s back as he balances his weight by placing a hand on the back of Jongin’s seat. His hand is terribly close to Jongin’s ass, something Jongin’s really only thought about in the privacy of his morning showers. Jongin knows he’s a hopeless cause.

“I never really made this many flowcharts,” Jongin mumbles, flushed. Kyungsoo’s so close, so warm, and nice, and Jongin’s in love, he knows that, but he’s terrified all the same. And Jongin had a lot of trouble thinking he was worth Kyungsoo’s time, even if all he wanted was Kyungsoo’s attention fixed on him.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Kyungsoo says softly. He’s pulling away, smirking now. “I wouldn’t have gotten you all to myself otherwise.”

Jongin nearly chokes on his own spit, masking the embarrassment with a cough. He grabs his strawberry milk, downing the last few drops, steadfastly ignoring the jump in his pulse or how he feels hot all over.

Kyungsoo chuckles, the amused look on his face only increasing Jongin’s despair. “You forgot to label everything on the diagram, Jongin.” He gets up from his seat, grabbing Jongin another strawberry milk, and Jongin internally curses at himself for being the biggest loser on the planet.

 

☼

 

Jongin’s a little dazed when he finally gets home, exhausted from the emotional ups and downs of the last two hours. He finds Lu Han spread out over his bed, watching some documentary on jellyfish, jacket still on. Jongin collapses next to him, mumbling a hello as he drapes an arm over Lu Han’s chest, using his arm as a pillow. Lu Han makes a sound of recognition, and Jongin finally spots the Chinese food sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Already visiting your boyfriend at his family restaraunt, hyung?” Jongin snickers, needing the distraction from his own woes.

“I’ll punch you,” Lu Han threatens, but he hasn’t budged, hasn’t even huffed in annoyance that Jongin’s on his bed.

“Are you capable of that right now? Man, you’ve known Yixing for like a week.”

“I know,” Lu Han wails. “I’m fucking worse than you. I didn’t think that was possible.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jongin says, affronted.

“It means I’m going crazy,” Lu Han sighs, curling around Jongin. He’s warm and pleasant, entirely different from Kyungsoo, who left Jongin as if on fire, everything in turmoil. Jongin’s just not sure he can keep up, not sure if being in a relationship is even something he can handle. He really likes Kyungsoo, and there’s something about the idea of losing him forever that eats Jongin up.

“Oh, you were definitely already crazy. Yixing has nothing to do with it,” Jongin assures, laughter muffled in Lu Han’s arm. Lu Han smacks him, sighing dramatically about horrible friends. “But what happened?”

“Oh, he was at the studio teaching a guitar class. I was leaving when he caught up to me, and we were so busy talking I didn’t realise he’d taken me his restaurant. His grandmother is incredibly nice,” Lu Han explains, pulling on Jongin’s hair lightly as he picks at it.

“Are you going to pursue her now?” Jongin asks innocently, cackling when Lu Han shoves him away, nearly pushing him off the bed. Jongin hangs off the edge, a little short of breath as his laughter dies down, watching Lu Han roll his eyes, and finally take off his coat.

“And how did your study date go? Did you cream your pants when he looked at you too long?” It’s Lu Han’s turn to laugh hysterically, failing to dodge the pillow Jongin throws at his face, or the kick to the shin. 

“Asshole,” Jongin mutters, ignoring the shit-eating grin Lu Han’s still sending his way.

“Come on, ask him out. He’s not gonna say no,” Lu Han promises, sitting up, eyes on the television. Jongin watches a jellyfish float across the screen, the voiceover going on about it’s poisonous abilities.

“But that’s just it, what if he says yes and I fuck everything up?”

“Fuck what up, exactly?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never dated anyone. I can barely take care of myself, how am I going to date someone?”

“You sound like you’re making excuses,” Lu Han informs him, getting up to grab the food he’s left on the counter. Jongin watches him, chest a little heavy, feeling a little lost. He’s tired of getting his heart broken, of feeling like a failure; he’s tired of wanting people he can’t have, doesn’t deserve.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jongin says, too tired to push this conversation. Explaining that he found it hard to believe that someone like Kyungsoo could like him when he barely liked himself wasn’t easy, and Jongin didn’t have it in him to try.

 

☼

 

Jongin’s just finished cleaning the rice cooker when Baekhyun pops up out of nowhere, grinning like a madman. Jongin eyes him suspiciously, attempting to step past him, but Baekhyun keeps blocking Jongin’s way, practically vibrating with excitement.

“What?” Jongin finally gives, sighing in defeat. He has to put away about one hundred plates and get through all the cups needing washing. He doesn’t have time for Baekhyun.

“Guess who’s here to see you? Guess, guess!” Baekhyun squeaks, jumping up and down on the spot. Jongin has a sinking suspicion he knows who it is, and really, he doesn’t understand Baekhyun and Jongdae’s extreme interest in his love life. Still, he wants to make this at least a little fun for himself.

“Your mom?” Jongin tries, smirking. Baekhyun gives him a nasty glare, smacking Jongin’s forehead before yanking him over to the order window, where Jongin spots Kyungsoo making conversation with a bubbly Jongdae. Fear strikes at Jongin’s core. Who fucking knew what nonsense Jongdae was spouting on about him?

“Will you two just suck face with each other and stop trying to ruin my life?” Jongin snaps at Baekhyun, who’s giggling and clapping his hands together. 

He practically runs out of the back room, slipping behind the bar to drag Jongdae away from Kyungsoo. It’s not until he’s in front of Kyungsoo, a little ruffled, that he realises he can’t just shove Jongdae out of the way, especially not with the way Kyungsoo is smiling at him in knowing amusement. 

“Hyung, hi, what’re you doing here?” Jongin asks, shooting Jongdae a glare as he snickers in the background, his arm draped over Jongin’s shoulder as he looks from Jongin to Kyungsoo. Maybe Jongin _should_ have taken that job at the studio himself.

“I was in the area,” Kyungsoo smiles, eyeing Jongdae’s hand on Jongin’s shoulder with a certain level of disdain. Jongin’s stomach flip flops and he pushes Jongdae away, sending him a meaningful look, begging with his eyes.

“Alright, alright, I’m going. God, I didn’t know no one was allowed to talk to your boy -- ”

“Ahh!” Jongin screams, grateful that the diner was closed as he rushes to cover Jongdae’s mouth and drag him away from Kyungsoo. “I will fucking tell Baekhyun about the shrine you’ve made Girl’s Day in your closet.” A look of horror passes over Jongdae’s face, and Jongin smiles viciously. “That’s right, you’re not the only one who knows how to snoop through people’s phones.”

Jongdae disappears into the back room, and Jongin can spot Baekhyun’s head peeking over the top of the order window, watching Kyungsoo. Jongin sighs, really fucking tired of how ridiculous his co-workers were. He makes it back to Kyungsoo with a smile, perhaps a little forced, wanting to get out of the diner as soon as possible. 

“Sorry about that,” Jongin murmurs, hands smoothing down his apron. He feels a little light-headed, like he’s spent the day blowing up balloons, but Kyungsoo’s eyes are soft and kind. Jongin can do this. “But um, I’m really glad you came by to visit. I mean, obviously you didn’t just come here to see me, you were in the area, but it’s nice that you wanted to stop by,” he rambles, cursing himself under his breath.

“It’s a little insufferable how cute you are,” Kyungsoo responds, and Jongin’s feeling too many things all at once -- human bodies don’t know how to regulate this. Nursing school hadn’t prepared him for compliments!

“What?” Jongin manages, swallowing, but Kyungsoo giving him a fond look, sliding a small white container over to Jongin.

“Hotteok,” Kyungsoo says. “I thought maybe you’d like it for dessert. Which is to say, I was hoping you’d want to come over for dinner.”

Jongin is pretty sure, from all the dramas he secretly watches -- for research purposes only, obviously -- that he’s being asked out on a date. This is the least ideal time for his lungs to collapse, stomach swooping upwards. He feels too hot, like maybe his brain’s going to melt out of his ears.

“Of course he does!” Baekhyun yells from the kitchen, and Jongin _can’t_ fucking believe his luck. There’s a crashing sound behind him and Jongin doesn’t care to look back and see that his friends have done.

Kyungsoo’s suppressing a laugh, waiting patiently for Jongin to say something himself.

“Um, y-yeah, that’d be nice,” Jongin answers, thankful that he’s still capable of forming basic sentences.

“I’ll wait until you finish,” Kyungsoo grins, reaching forward to fix Jongin’s collar. Jongin tries his very best to keep standing, despite the wobble in his knees. He watches Kyungsoo go over to a booth by the window and slide in.

Ducking quickly when Kyungsoo glances over, Jongin smacks his forehead with a hand before he crawls to the kitchen entrance, in awe of his own stupidity. Do Kyungsoo wants to date him. He is going to be so disappointed.

“Oh my god, you guys are so cute!” Baekhyun exclaims at the same time Jongdae laughs, “Did your knees give out, loverboy?”

Jongin wishes he had something to throw at Jongdae’s face. 

He stands up, dusting off his knees. Thankfully Jongin had come to work after class. He had jeans, and a t-shirt that didn’t smell like fish guts. Baekhyun immediately hugs him, exclaiming about how happy he is for Jongin, and Jongdae takes Jongin’s sigh of exasperation as his cue to join in.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Jongin huffs, prying himself away. “I need to finish cleaning the dishes, I can’t stand here hugging you two all night.”

“What? No, you need to go on your date,” Baekhyun insists, exchanging a quick, silent look with Jongdae who nods before grinning at Jongin.

“We’ll finish the close, go. Be free, get laid,” Jongdae grins, clapping Jongin’s back before disappearing further into the depths of the back room. 

Jongin stares at Baekhyun, a little surprised. “It’s a lot of work, hyung. I’ll finish my -- ”

“Nope! We got this, go get changed before I tell Kyungsoo lies about you.” Baekhyun shoves Jongin in the direction of the washroom, Jongin’s coat hanging off one of the hooks in the small alcove they treated like their lunch room.

Baekhyun disappears, too, and Jongin’s left changing out of his work clothes with a frantic heart rate. He yells out a goodbye as he wanders over to Kyungsoo, who looks a little bit like the nerd Lu Han’s taken to describing him as but Jongin really doesn’t care. His heart’s trembling all the same.

 

☼

 

They make it to Kyungsoo’s apartment in silence, Jongin hardly trusting himself from not saying something idiotic. He kind of likes that Kyungsoo’s so quiet, his presence next to Jongin a constant comfort. By the time Jongin’s sliding his shoes off at Kyungsoo’s place, he’s loosened up a little, having repeated to himself, several times, that he wasn’t going to ruin everything.

Kyungsoo makes them something he calls kimchi spaghetti, and even agrees to just eating at his couch when Jongin whines about not wanting to move. Work is tiring, and Jongin’s been up since nine that morning, heading to class with Lu Han first before stumbling to work.

“I thought maybe you’d wanna watch the Star Trek remake?” Kyungsoo asks when he hands Jongin a plate of spaghetti. His mouth waters at the sight.

“That would be awesome,” Jongin grins, only choking a little when Kyungsoo bends over to turn the dvd player on. Jongin pretends he didn’t just blatantly stare at Kyungsoo’s ass and focuses on the food in front of him, far too aware of how Kyungsoo takes a seat barely an inch away from him.

Jongin attempts to eat slowly, infinitely worried that he was going to somehow drop the plate on himself, but he’s hungrier than he thought he was, mouth a little sore from the spiciness when he’s finished. 

“I didn’t think you’d like it that much,” Kyungsoo comments, watching as Jongin places his plate on Kyungsoo’s coffee table, gulping down his glass of water to calm the heat in his mouth. When he settles back, he’s pressed into Kyungsoo’s side.

“It was delicious, hyung. And, I mean, of course I’d like it if you made it,” Jongin mumbles, refusing to even glance at Kyungsoo despite how much he wants to. He’d only turn redder. Instead, he focuses on the movie, only sneaking a glance at Kyungsoo when he reaches to put his plate away, too.

Jongin’s beyond full, the drowsiness of contentment leaving his guard a little down. He leans into Kyungsoo, head resting on his shoulder, lazily watching Kirk meet Bones for the first time. He’s about to tell Kyungsoo that he reminds Jongin a lot of Bones, but Kyungsoo’s hand is slipping into his. Something lodges in Jongin’s throat, Kyungsoo’s hand heavy in Jongin’s, fingers fitting through the gaps of Jongin’s. He stares at their hands, Kyungsoo’s thumb tracing over Jongin’s wrist, circling the jut of bone.

Nothing’s ever felt quite so right to Jongin before. Not dancing until his legs feel like jelly, not staying up with Lu Han until four in the morning watching Lord of the Rings, nothing. It terrifies him.

Kyungsoo has Jongin’s hand in his lap, his free hand tracing absentminded patterns into Jongin’s skin. It’s incredibly distracting, and Jongin’s definitely not paying attention to the movie anymore, attempting to make sense of Kyungsoo.

“I wasn’t aware the movie was playing on my face, Jongin,” Kyungsoo says quietly, turning his head toward Jongin slowly, mouth curled into a smirk. They’re so close, Kyungsoo’s right there, and Jongin’s first kiss was with Jung Soojung in Sehun’s backyard when he was thirteen. His heart hadn’t beat this fast, nor had he turned beet red for quite the same reasons.

Kyungsoo’s lips are softer than anything Jongin could have imagined, everything around Jongin suddenly turning to silence as Kyungsoo’s fingers wrap around the back of Jongin’s neck. It’s tentative, careful, the tremble in Jongin’s hand absorbed by Kyungsoo as soundlessly as the sigh Jongin lets out. He presses in a little harder, heat coiling in his gut, toes curling as Kyungsoo sucks softly on Jongin’s upper lip, tongue swiping over Jongin’s lower seconds later.

“Hyung,” Jongin shudders, pulling away when he can’t seem to suck air past the thickness in his throat, the sudden realisation of what he’s done hitting him like a freight train. There was no going back now. There was just this.

“Hey, you okay?” Kyungsoo says softly, thumb tracing down Jongin’s jaw. Jongin’s stomach twists awfully, barely capable of swallowing down a rising sense of dread.

“Yeah,” Jongin breathes, giving Kyungsoo his best smile. He’s overthinking, as per usual. Everything was going to be okay. Kyungsoo had _kissed_ him, after all.

Kyungsoo only hums, drawing back, but he squeezes Jongin’s hand, doesn’t let go the rest of the night, not until Jongin has to leave, the lump in Jongins’ throat growing three times bigger in the hour that passes.

When Kyungsoo leans against the door as Jongin puts on his shoes, desperately trying to hide the tremble in his hands, Kyungsoo zips up Jongin’s jacket for him. He presses a kiss against Jongin’s cheek, and smiles reassuringly, eyes a little sad. 

“I don’t mind waiting a little longer, Jongin, but you have to trust me. I like you just the way you are, I always have.”

Jongin doesn’t know what to say, feeling closer to throwing up so he does the only thing he can. He leaves.

 

☼

 

Jongin nearly has a panic attack in the elevator, isn’t quite sure how he makes it home. But he does, stumbling inside, breathing finally steady again. He doesn’t feel ready for this, doesn’t think he’s good enough, and his chest is squeezing tighter and tighter around his heart, his lungs. He sinks against the back of the door, willing himself not to cry.

“Jongin?” Lu Han’s voice is far off, the sound of footsteps booming louder and louder, until Jongin thinks he can see every resounding step flash red behind his eyes. “Hey, Jongin, are you okay?”

How many times was Lu Han going to have to deal with Jongin falling apart? How many times would Kyungsoo? Jongin didn’t want to do this to someone.

“Jongin?” Lu Han sounds frantic, kneeling in front of Jongin as he attempts to get Jongin to look up at him, hands finding Jongin’s somehow.

“I’m okay,” Jongin finally rasps, tears slipping down his cheeks despite his efforts to keep them in. “I’m okay.” He knows Lu Han isn’t convinced, knows he’s saying this for himself but he doesn’t know what else to say. It’s not like Lu Han could make everything go away.

“Look at me,” Lu Han instructs, and Jongin does, too tired to feel ashamed of crying. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere, and you don’t need to be okay. You can be everything you feel and I’m going to be right here the entire time.”

Jongin shakes as he cries, Lu Han pulling him into a hug. 

And he’s right there when Jongin stops, hand smoothing down Jongin’s arm over and over. 

 

☼

 

Jongin goes to class, and to work, and spends the rest of his time holed up in his room. Lu Han tells Yixing he might miss a few classes, assuring Jongin that he only told Yixing Jongin has a bad case of strep throat. Yixing sends a light chicken broth home with Lu Han every time they see each other, and Jongin only feels worse.

There is only so much stupidity Jongin’s friends needed to deal with. Jongin hadn’t even explained anything to Lu Han yet, allowing him to think that Kyungsoo had broken Jongin’s heart or something.

It’s not until he’s managed to crawl out of his bed to spread out over Lu Han’s that Lu Han asks about what happened, a bowl of cereal in hand.

“Kyungsoo kissed me,” Jongin says, voice muffled by the pillow he’s attempting to hide his face in. “Everything felt too real, so I kind of panicked.”

“It felt too _real?_ ” Lu Han repeats, looking like he wanted to punch Jongin in the face. Jongin didn’t blame him. “Jongin.”

“I know, I’m a loser,” Jongin confesses. He rolls over, running a hand through his hair. 

“No, you’re not,” Lu Han sighs, sticking his cereal bowl on the small table he’d bought since moving into the apartment. It was littered with empty cans and scraps of paper. “I don’t even know what you are. Do you not like Kyungsoo anymore?”

“No, he’s... I don’t even know how long I’ve liked him, okay. But that’s the thing, I’ve known him for so long. He’s really important to me.”

“And being in a relationship will...what? Make him less important?” Lu Han sounds exasperated, rightfully so. Jongin’s pretty tired of himself, too.

“What if I lose him as a friend? What if I screw one more thing up? I don’t even know why he likes me,” Jongin sighs, staring at the ceiling again. Jongin had stuck glow in the dark stars to it, so Lu Han had something to stare at when he couldn’t fall asleep.

“One failed audition doesn’t make you a failure, Jongin,” Lu Han asserts, giving Jongin a firm look.

“Everything went to shit after it though,” Jongin mumbles. His mother had been so disappointed, and somehow in the universe where Jongin didn’t screw up getting into K-Arts, he was still friends with Sehun. He didn’t hate everything quite so much.

“Tomorrow you’re going out with me and Yixing, and I’m gonna tell Yixing what a liar you are so he can kick your ass,” Lu Han tells him, leaving Jongin on the bed as he heads toward the bathroom.

“Yixing-hyung wouldn’t hurt a fly!” Jongin yells back. “And he loves me!”

 

☼

 

Jongin’s afraid of a lot things: birds, the impending doom of a future oil crisis, aliens taking over the planet, blackouts, the ever frightening future, but Kyungsoo is something different altogether. He can’t run away from a single person forever, least of all someone who he values as a friend. He didn’t want to lose someone so important to him, and even if Jongin really fucking liked Kyungsoo, there was no guarantee they’d still stay friends if things didn’t work out.

And that was the most terrifying thing of all.

 

☼

 

The rooftop is empty, Jongin wandering over to the edge aimlessly. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here, wind heavier than usual as it whips Jongin’s hair around. His school uniform isn’t warm enough, a chatter settling in Jongin’s teeth as he peers over the edge of his high school. Jongin likes heights, likes looking down and out and across at the vastness of the world. Somehow it’s comforting.

The wind slows down suddenly, the calm in Jongin’s heart replaced by curiosity. He glances around, watches as everything seems to dull out, the brightness of the sun washing out so quickly, and Jongin’s terrified of turning around. It’s there, it’s always there. 

There’s nowhere to run. The rooftop is shrinking, mutating grey slabs of cement into black marble, and Jongin’s in the endless tunnel again. But he’s rooted to the spot, unable to get his legs moving. It’s coming, so close, something vile and horrifying ready to swallow Jongin up.

“Jongin!” The voice seems to snap him out of his daze, bolting toward the direction he’d heard his name come from. He runs faster, the voice repeating his name, calling out. The thing behind him is slow this time, slower than it ever has been, and everything flickers around him, morphing into snapshots of his apartment, his bedroom, until everything stops and Jongin stumbles, crashing forward.

“Jongin?”

Jongin looks up to find Kyungsoo, tossing a panicked glance behind himself, only to find nothing. When he looks back at Kyungsoo, he’s gone, and Jongin is sitting in his room, drenched in sweat, blood rushing to his head.

 

☼

 

“Where are we going?” Jongin asks Lu Han for the tenth time, regretting his lack of socks. November is freezing, as if coming back with a vengeance and the desire to freeze Seoul over.

“I told you it was a surprise,” Lu Han answers, punching Jongin in the arm, the most obvious way to get Jongin to shut up, apparently. It doesn’t work, obviously, and Jongin precedes to whine about how cold he is and how awful Lu Han is until Lu Han finally stops in front of a noraebang, smiling smugly as he drags Jongin in.

“No, I hate singing! You know I can’t sing,” Jongin whines, dragging his feet as Lu Han pulls Jongin toward one of the rooms. When they enter, Yixing’s already there, fidgeting with the karaoke machine.

“Jongin!” he exclaims, clambering up to give Jongin a full bodied hug. Jongin’s a little dazed, surprised at how much he’s missed Yixing, arms wrapping around him tightly. Lu Han shuffles past them, plopping down on one of the couches. “I missed you. Classes weren’t the same with you.”

“I’m sorry about lying,” Jongin mumbles.

“It’s alright, liking people is hard. I’m just glad you’re doing a little better,” Yixing smiles, tugging him into the room. Lu Han pulls out the six pack of beer he’d snuck in, grinning satisfyingly as he pops open a can.

“You were supposed to be mean to him,” Lu Han sighs at Yixing, who grabs the beer in Lu Han’s hand and takes a sip.

“I was going to try, but then I saw his adorable face again,” Yixing coos, pinching Jongin’s cheek. Jongin pushes his hand away, huffing, eyes narrowing at Lu Han who’s snickering at Jongin’s embarrassment.

“I’m not singing until I’m drunk,” Jongin informs them, leaning back against the couch and waiting for either Yixing or Lu Han to kickstart this night of fun, as Lu Han had called it.

In the end, Lu Han goes first, predictably selecting DBSK’s Mirotic, Lu Han’s self declared Best Song Ever. Jongin, despite knowing all the lyrics, refuses to join him, even after persistent jabs in the side from Yixing and a kick from Lu Han. Enthused, Lu Han decides to sing another song, already lost to the world of high notes and dramatics.

“Lu Han told me about everything. I hope that’s okay,” Yixing says, as they watch Lu Han attempt to sing and dance at the same time, Jongin laughing when Lu Han nearly trips. 

Jongin shrugs, smiling at Yixing. “It saves me the trouble.”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been ignoring all of Kyungsoo’s texts and calls for a week. Possibly, also, like I’ve screwed everything up as I predicted,” Jongin answers. Jongin wishes he didn’t sound so pathetic.

‘You haven’t screwed anything up,” Yixing assures him. “He likes you, right?”

“Well, he said he did, and then I ran away,” Jongin laughs self-deprecatingly. Lu Han pauses in the middle of his rendition of Rising Sun, sending them a thumbs up before he chugs from the beer Yixing’s left on the table. Jongin wonders how purposeful the action is, holding back a smile.

“And you like him?”

Jongin licks his lips, wishing he knew what to do with his hands. He squeezes his thighs, eyeing the beer on the table. “Yeah, a lot.”

 _Possibly I love him_ , Jongin wants to say, but that’s a lot to digest even if he’s been mulling it over for the better part of a month. The week he’s spent moping has given him a little perspective, Kyungsoo’s mouth haunting him even in his waking moments. There’s no doubt he enjoyed the kiss, or that he wants to maybe kiss him a lot more. Fear just had a stubborn hold over him, but that fear was beginning to get a little murky. Jongin wanted to be more than his fears.

“It might help to just tell him that. You don’t have to date or do anything you don’t feel ready for,” Yixing comforts, squeezing Jongin in a side hug.

“Thanks hyung,” Jongin smiles, Lu Han finally dragging Yixing up to cover Super Junior M’s Super Girl. Jongin thinks they’re cute, thinking back to how Baekhyun had called him and Kyungsoo that. Maybe he could tell Kyungsoo his fears. Maybe Kyungsoo wouldn’t run away like Jongin expected; after all, he was perfect.

 

☼

 

Jongin stands in front of the coffee shop, head pounding from his hangover, but determined that he wasn’t going to run off from sheer terror. Actually, after last night’s drunken fun, Jongin’s more confident than anything else. For the first time in a while, Jongin had forgotten all his worries and lived in the moment, enjoyed the company of his friends without worrying about the looming dread of exams or how he didn’t feel good enough for them.

As far as Kyungsoo was concerned, Jongin had stopped thinking about him sometime between their first attempt at singing Gee and their third. The night had ended on a somber note, when Yixing started singing sad, depressing ballads, their cue to head home.

He’s slept about three hours, and he most likely looks like shit, but Chanyeol had told him, half-asleep, that Kyungsoo would only be working until noon, after which he had class. Jongin needed to tell him now or he would chicken out and everything would go to shit again. Jongin can almost hear Lu Han’s exasperated voice telling him to get the fuck on with it.

After taking a deep breath, Jongin opens the door, slipping inside as quietly as possible. He spots Kyungsoo immediately, standing at the cash register, looking a little worse for wear. Jongin feels guilty, but mostly he thinks Kyungsoo looks really fucking good in crisp, white dress shirts and that was wholly unfair. 

Potentially, Jongin’s still a little drunk. He really hopes the shower washed the smell of beer off of him.

‘You can do this,” he tells himself, exhaling as he joins the line to place an order. His was a little out of the ordinary but Jongin really hopes Kyungsoo can make an exception. 

Kyungsoo’s sticking money into his till when Jongin reaches the counter. Without looking up, he smiles, “Hi, how can I -- Jongin.”

“Hi,” Jongin breathes, trying his best to smile despite the reserved look on Kyungsoo’s features. That was his own fault, he had no right to feel upset over it. Just dumb. “Um, sorry for showing up here but I was hoping we could talk after your shift?”

Kyungsoo licks his lips, looking at Jongin intently before nodding. “I’m done in ten minutes, I’ll meet you outside.”

Jongin lets out the breath he’s holding, deflating with relief. He gives Kyungsoo his best smile, mumbling a thank you before leaving him to his work. He makes it outside, hands fisting into his jacket. For the first time, Jongin doesn’t have a speech he’s practised in front of the mirror a thousand times because confrontations terrified him. He just showed up hoping he could maybe word vomit his way through this. His palms are sweaty, throat constricting as time goes by waiting for Kyungsoo.

He’s about to peek inside when Kyungsoo steps out of the door, and Jongin knows he’s in love and all but Kyungsoo still takes his breath away, still looks like the most beautiful thing Jongin’s ever set his eyes on. Jongin can’t stand it.

“Hyung,” Jongin greets, waits for Kyungsoo to move, to do something besides stand in the doorway. He finally moves, grabbing Jongin by the wrist and pulling him down an alley. They end up at the back of the shop, Kyungsoo’s hand slipping away when they’re out of sight completely.

“You wanted to talk?” Jongin’s heard Kyungsoo use his unimpressed voice before, just never at him, and it prickles at Jongin’s heart. He swallows down the hurt, smiling instead.

“I’m,” Jongin starts, wincing when Kyungsoo fixes him with an intensely disinterested look. _You can do this,_ he repeats to himself. Jongin sucks in his lower lip before letting it go, shifting his gaze to look at the buttons on Kyungsoo’s coat rather than the firm press of his lips. “I fucked up. I fuck up a lot, actually, and I was so convinced I would screw up our friendship that I didn’t want to... Even thinking about losing you makes me miserable and most couples don’t stay friends when they break up, and I just didn’t want to risk it.”

He takes in a deep breath, continuing, “I mean, I don’t even understand why you like me, or how you could. Sometimes I get so scared of everything I can’t leave my bed, and that’s the opposite of attractive, really. I guess, I just think you could do better and I don’t really deserve you but I, I...” Jongin swallows. “I like you. A lot.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything, grabbing Jongin by his jacket and yanking him forward until their mouths crash together. Jongin gasps into Kyungsoo’s mouth, the press of his lips hungry and angry and ferocious. Jongin’s chest feels like it’s been cracked open, suddenly able to breathe, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering out all at once, body melting into Kyungsoo easily.

"You don't get to decide what I deserve," Kyungsoo breathes, hand still fisted in Jongin's shirt. Jongin's not breathing, barely daring to blink. "If you're scared, it's okay. I am, too, but I love you and I want you and I need you to believe me."

“L-love me?” Jongin stutters, eyes wide. Kyungsoo nods, firm, and Jongin doesn’t understand how someone who looks so tiny and cute can be so assertive and confident at the same time. He really just wants to kiss Kyungsoo again.

“I, I want you, too,” Jongin mumbles, blushing, the quiver in his hands disappearing as he wraps them around Kyungsoo’s neck, leaning in to kiss Kyungsoo as boldly as possible. Kyungsoo doesn’t let him go until Jongin’s breathless, shoulders colliding with brick wall as Kyungsoo leans closer yet, mouthing kisses along Jongin’s jaw.

“You made me wait for so long,” Kyungsoo whispers, teeth scraping over Jongin’s neck. 

“I’m sorry,” Jongin gasps, barely audible. He lets himself enjoy this, enjoy Kyungsoo’s hands all over him, enjoy the softness of Kyungsoo’s hair in Jongin’s hand, enjoy the way Kyungsoo’s heart seems to be beating just in time with Jongin’s.

“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo says, pulling away from Jongin to look up at him, fond eyes betraying his smirk. “You can repay me somehow.”


End file.
